As Luck Would Have It - Part 2

by Nelson



Taggert went down to the basement and saw the glow from the office before he got to the room. Jonas was already in front of the computer, and Taggert pulled up a chair next to him. "That had the potential to get ugly fast," he reported, resting his chin in his hand.

Jonas shook his head, while looking at the computer. "He's really wound up this evening for some reason."

"I came *that* close to swatting his butt."

Jonas cracked a half-smile at the short distance spanning the space between Taggert's thumb and first finger. "That close, huh?" he kidded. "Did you get him settled finally?"

"Yeah," Taggert reported with a relieved sigh as he relaxed back in the chair. "I've got him working on that history assignment he didn't finish. Told him to give me 45 minutes of study time, which should be enough to get it done if he doesn't fool around."

"Sounds fair, considering he was supposed to have it done two days ago."

Taggert blew out a breath. "I'm not sure Jackson would agree with it being fair. He didn't even stop arguing when I added early bed tonight. Actually," he said almost to himself, "that might have made it worse. It wasn't until I threatened to make it an hour of study time instead of 45 minutes before he put a lid on it."

Jonas clicked on the favorites link and turned to Taggert as the page loaded. "You know what I think the problem is? He's still not sleeping well. Giving him early bed was probably one of the best things you could have done."

"He wouldn't agree with that either, but I think you're right. I thought he'd be used to being in a new bed by now. It's been a month."

"Well, he's had to get used to the bed and having other people in it. Not to mention the stress of settling down with us in a new home with new routines."

Taggert turned to Jonas with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not causing him any stress."

"Really? Weren't you the one who just had to deal with an explosion?" Jonas countered, trying to suppress a smile.

"Now that you mention it, it does sound a bit familiar."

"Do you want to check in with Brad first or read a few posts?"

"Posts. Our inbox fills up way too fast with all these Island Alphas chatting."

Jonas clicked through the pages and ended up in Yahoo!, staring at the mail screen. He typed in their password and Yahoo! welcomed them, opening a portal to their cyberspace mail, and Jonas dove straight in. He whistled when the new mail loaded, filling the better portion of the page.

"There must be 15 posts to wade through," he commented almost to himself as he opened the earliest email.

They sorted through various threads written by Alphas who had matched with partners on The Island, ranging from simple community posts to deeper subjects like how to get your Cen to open up when he's upset and withdrawn. They jumped in on a couple posts that caught their eye, and cleared out their inbox of the rest of the mail.

"What time is it?" Taggert asked, craning his head to see the clock in the lower right of the computer monitor.

"7:25."

"We need to call Brad then I have to go rescue Jackson before he's devoured by aggravation and homework. We only have about 10 minutes."

"We'll make it a quick call," Jonas said, picking up the phone on the desk. He dialed the number to Jackson's former cottage and waited until someone had answered. "Hello?"

Tom's voice came over the receiver. "Hi, this is Tom."

"Hey, Tom, it's Jonas and Taggert."

Jonas put the phone on speaker, and Tom spoke. "Hi there, guys. How's it going?"

"Pretty good. We were just calling to touch base with Brad."

"Hang on and I'll get him."

A few minutes passed and then Brad came on the line. "Hi there, guys."

"Hi, Brad," Taggert said. "How are you?"

"Missing Jackson. How are you?"

"Loving having Jackson," he smiled.

"So things are still going ok?"

"Aside from a minor bump or two here and there," Taggert advised with a telling glance at Jonas. "Things have been *relatively* quiet. No major trouble to speak of."

"He was giving Taggert a bit of pushback on his homework today," Jonas elaborated a tad. "Just a little test, that's all. I think Taggert passed. What did you get, Taggert? A 'B'?"

Taggert ran a hand over his face feeling the shadowy scratch of stubble that had reappeared since he shaved that morning. "B-plus."

"Fill me in."

"He didn't finish his homework night before last, and I told him it had to be done today. He didn't want to do it today, either, so he was a little ticked at me when I made him finish it. He argued with me, trying to get me to let it go."

"What did you do about it?"

"I told him he was going to bed a half hour early tonight."

Brad chuckled. "You might as well have severed a limb."

"I know. He doesn't appreciate early bed. You could have warned us."

"Sorry. Is he still not sleeping well?" Brad asked intuitively.

Jonas and Taggert exchanged a look. "We were just talking about that," Jonas said.

"It took him a while to get used to new surroundings when he came here. I had him go to bed early until he settled in." Brad thought back to his early days with Jackson as he talked. "After a few weeks of that, I started testing him by letting him stay up fifteen minutes later in increments until we built up to his normal time."

"How early?" Jonas asked.

"An hour, and it worked. It was for his own good. He struggles with changes in his environment, and sleeping arrangements fall right into the mix. Cal thinks it's from getting jerked around most of his life from one foster home to another."

Jonas' hackles immediately went up, ready to defend Jackson from years of mistreatment in the Florida social services system. If he could get his hands on some of those excuses for people the state entrusted Jackson to… His jaw clenched, and it took sheer effort to put the thoughts in the past where they belonged.

He said, "I think Cal probably has a point about that."

"I thought so, too," Brad agreed. "And you know, to complicate matters more, when Jackson gets tired, he gets wound up easily. He knows that, but he can't help it. An hour early seemed to do the trick."

Tell Jackson he had to go to bed an hour early for more than one night? The thought made Taggert grimace. "Him knowing he needs the extra sleep doesn't happen to make him any more receptive to the idea of going to bed early by any chance, does it?"

"I wouldn't count on that." Brad couldn't help but grin at their dilemma, fully understanding the hesitation. "You have a high-rated partner, gentlemen. Just remember, when you do put your foot down about something, you need to put it down firmly. Be sure of yourselves."

"It's a little hard to be but so sure when we're figuring things out ourselves," Jonas said. "We don't want to be too hard on him."

"No, you don't. Remember what we've told you: if you're going to err, do it on the side of caution. You can't take it back if you overdo it," Brad explained. "That would be unacceptable for any Cen, but especially Jackson."

"Absolutely," Taggert agreed.

Brad added, "It wouldn't be unusual for him to push a little right now. He's testing to see if the boundaries are still there."

Jonas frowned as he thought over the last few weeks; weeks that had been relatively calm. "He really hasn't been pushing much. Today was really out of the ordinary."

"I agree," Taggert told Brad. "Really, the only big deal we've had was the mall incident we told you about. Today wasn't even all that bad."

The phone line was eerily quiet aside from a touch of background noise and static; enough that Jonas and Taggert knew the connection hadn't been lost. Brad spoke after a moment of thought. "I'm really surprised to hear that. I would have expected the stress of all the changes to have him wound tight as a drum."

"He's a little snappy sometimes – we think he's tired – but that's about it," Jonas noted.

Taggert agreed with his partner's assessment. "Yeah, it seems to get worse as the week wears on, then he gets to sleep in on the weekends, and he's better."

"Hmm, interesting," Brad wondered aloud.

"Interesting? That doesn't sound good," Taggert said with a wary glance at the phone.

"I just hope nothing's brewing. I've seen him let things build many times," Brad explained. "He doesn't mean to, but if he's over-stressed or upset about something, he can't seem to work it out without some sort of explosion most of the time."

"I think we might cause an explosion if we make him go to bed early every night until he's sleeping," Taggert commented wryly.

"Well, that's Jackson," Brad laughed. "He's not going to roll over just because you snap your fingers." Brad's voice turned serious. "Keep a close eye, guys. He might be bottling things up."

"We will," Jonas said confidently.

Taggert checked the time. "He's going to string me up if I don't go close the books on his study time. I need to go release him."

Right on cue, Jackson's voice bellowed from the first floor. "Taggert! It's been 45 minutes! Tag-gert!"

"And there he is," Taggert stifled a smile. "We'd better go."

"Ok, take care. Tell Jackson I said 'hi'."

"We will. Bye."

Taggert was headed up the stairs before Jonas could put the phone back where it belonged.

~~~~~~~~~

Jackson awoke once again and looked past Jonas' shoulder to see the clock for about the hundredth time that night: four in the morning. A whole hour since he looked the last time. He collapsed against the pillow in a boneless heap, staring into the dark at the ceiling. He just could not sleep! It couldn't still be the new bed and sleeping partners, not after a whole month.

It was because he went to bed so damn early! He sighed as he reflected over the reason he ended up in bed early. It was for running off at the mouth, he remembered with remorse. At least he had caught himself before things got really ugly, and before Taggert got any more testy about unmet deadlines and arguing.

He looked to his left and then to his right. His partners certainly weren't having any trouble sleeping, probably because they hadn't gone to bed right after sunset. He listened to them breathing slow and steady, unconscious to the world and to the fact that their newest partner lay wide awake. Taggert snored softly; not enough to keep anyone up, especially Jonas who, according to Taggert, could sleep through a tornado.

Jackson wished he could simply sleep through the night, never mind a tornado. He wasn't being unreasonable, he just wanted some sleep! He seemed to wake up every time one of the other two men budged, or even thought about moving. As though nudged by Jackson's thoughts, Jonas turned over and draped a heavy arm across Jackson, pinning him securely to the mattress. Jackson rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the sudden, overwhelming urge to move now that he was fully immobilized.

If he could only manage to get out of bed, he could at least watch some TV or something. He looked at the outline of Jonas' arm across his chest and sighed. How the heck was he going to get out from under that?! It was hard enough to sneak out of bed being wedged between Jonas and Taggert. It would be nearly impossible with Jonas subconsciously denying him an easy exit. It was going to be a challenge, but when faced with the alternative of staring at the ceiling, Jackson was up for it. At least it was something to do.

He gingerly slipped his free arm out from under the covers and softly clasped Jonas' wrist in a two-finger grip. He paused, not daring to breathe, to see if the touch stirred Jonas at all. When there was no reaction from the man, Jackson moved the incapacitating arm off his chest and allowed himself to exhale slowly. One hurdle cleared. He looked down the length of his prone body, covered by a mound of sheets and comforter; simply kicking them away would yank them off Jonas and Taggert, likely defeating the purpose of not disturbing their sleep.

Rather, Jackson pushed himself, inch by inch, into a sitting position then carefully maneuvered his body onto the top of the bed linens. He softly began to crawl toward the foot, but froze about half-way when Taggert rolled onto his back. Anticipation stopped Jackson's heart, and he paused, statue-still, waiting for Taggert to ask why he was sneaking out of bed. The question never came, leaving him to hear nothing except the resuming rumble of Taggert snoring once the man was comfortable again. Jackson blew out a chestful of air quietly then finished creeping toward the end of the bed.

His face broke out in a victorious smile when his feet hit the floor, having escaped the sleepless bed without waking his partners. He didn't know why he was so surprised; they weren't the ones having trouble sleeping. He padded down the stairs, tiptoeing on each riser, soundlessly making his way toward the den in the basement. Once he got downstairs, he glanced to his left and had a change of heart about watching TV: the computer beckoned from the office, tempting him with some precious internet time that was just as severely limited at home as it had been on The Island. One hour per day just didn't cut it, and since it wasn't technically "day" yet, he didn't see the harm.

He booted up the computer and went straight to his usual first stop: Yahoo! Instant Messenger. He wasn't surprised not to see any of his friends online. There were Alphas afoot, and Jackson knew that not a single self-respecting one on The Island would allow early morning web surfing, not this early anyway. He signed in and found Sam's avatar sound asleep like all good Cen avatars at that time of the day. He quickly typed out an offline message to Sam, asking innocently why he wasn't online and wondering when Jackson might expect him. Jackson had no doubt that Sam would check the timestamp, and the thought of Sam's expression was priceless. He'd be speechless first, jealous right after that.

Jackson finished with his note, then surfed for a while before heading to his Groups link to check out what former Island Cens were chatting about. Many of the regulars were Cens who had gone before his time, but there were plenty of familiar "faces" in the group. He scanned the notes and answered several posts before a name caught his eye: Dylan. Jackson wondered if Dylan was still busy trying to play the part of an Alpha or if he had finally fully accepted who he was. Jackson felt a bit of renewed disdain at the mere reading of the other young man's name. Dylan always thought he ruled the planet, or at least the little part designated as The Island, and in particular, the piece that was called Jamie.

He remembered the day that he and Dylan had a knock-down, drag-out – at Jackson's instigation, Brad quickly and painfully pointed out. Jackson grimaced at the memory of his flaming butt after Brad was finished with him. It was one of the worst spankings he ever got, mostly because he had been in his share of fights, but also because he caused a fairly new Cen to get spanked as well.

His brow knitted in thought right after he deleted Dylan's email without bothering to read it. Why was he still letting Dylan get to him anyway, he wondered with a surly glare at the screen. He might be a good source of information; he was a part of a threesome, too, after all. How different was a threesome with two Cens and one Alpha versus two Alphas and one Cen? Dylan could be a useful ally. Jackson toyed with the idea of talking to Dylan, but considering their history, he was probably the last person Dylan wanted to hear from.

Jackson went to the trash folder and found Dylan's post, re-reading it and hearing the other Cen's voice in his head as he read. He sounded like a reasonable Cen, not the Alpha wanna be that always drove Jackson up the wall. Jackson wondered…maybe they both had changed enough to be civil. He clicked on the email line of the post and Yahoo! opened the mail screen with Dylan's address already entered in the address field.

Jackson clicked in the text box and watched the cursor silently blinking as it waited for Jackson's fingers to send it sailing across the page, leaving a coherent jumble of letters in its wake.

His fingers came to life just as his brain kicked into gear, and he began pecking out a message.

/Hey, Dylan,/

Then they stopped, seeking further direction from mission control, but beyond the salutation, Jackson was coming up empty. He had no strategy, and worse, no words for the email. It was a stupid idea anyway, he complained to himself. He closed the window with a sigh then rested his chin in his palm, thinking over the situation. Suddenly, an epiphany hit him and he straightened up in his chair. Apologize, asshole! Isn't that how you started out when you were trying to mend fences?

But then… what would Dylan say? Would he say anything? The fact was there were only two choices Dylan could make: delete his email, or reply. Either way, Jackson had nothing to lose, assuming he didn't get his ass handed to him in the reply. He frowned in consternation as he stared at the blank screen. With another sigh, he threw caution to wind and dove in, starting the email all over again.

/Dylan, I'm sorry for not being easier to get along with when we were on The Island. I was an ass, but I think I've changed some. I hope I have, anyway. I matched with two Alphas. Can you believe that? I know, serves me right. LOL Seriously, they're great. So, I'm in a threesome, too, just different than yours. I thought we might have things to talk about if you want. I hope all is well with you, Jamie and Garth. If you decide to delete this, I understand. Jackson/

The mouse hovered over the "send" icon, blinking lazily as Jackson's forefinger drummed lightly over the left mouse button. He took a deep breath and firmly brought his finger down. The email was off, good or bad, for better or worse, in sickness and in—

"Good morning." Jackson jumped a mile at the unexpected voice behind him. Jonas leaned down and kissed the top of Jackson's head after he peeled it off the ceiling. "Did I scare you?"

Jackson's heart fell back in its usual rhythm. "Yeah, I didn't hear you come in. Morning," Jackson said, turning from the computer to get a proper kiss.

"Been up long?"

Jackson checked the time at the bottom corner of the computer, and stretched his arms overhead with a yawn. "Wow. Yeah, about an hour and a half."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No. I got tired of trying, but not tired enough to fall back to sleep."

Jonas kneaded Jackson's shoulders. "I'm sorry, babe. Have you been on the computer since you got up?"

Jackson looked guiltily back at the computer. Once he was face-to-face with the question, he doubted his earlier assessment that it would be ok. Brad wouldn't have been happy about him sneaking off in the night to stare at the computer, but he wasn't sure about Jonas and Taggert. He felt that fish out of water sensation again, combined with the added pleasure of having to dip his toe in what water there was.

He tested it gently. "Yeah?" Jackson answered uncertainly.

"Let's see." Jonas thought for a second. "That's one and a half hours with a daily limit of one hour, so you have no more internet today and only a half an hour tomorrow."

Jackson's jaw dropped in an indignant "o". "But that's not fair! It wasn't technically 'day' so it shouldn't count against my online time!"

"A 24 hour period is a day."

"But you said 'day'! Day is daytime!"

"That's enough about it," Jonas said with finality. He reached over Jackson to shut down the computer. "No more today, half-hour tomorrow."

Jackson glared disapproving daggers at Jonas, who didn't even flinch in the face of his ire. "But, Jonas!"

"I said that's enough," Jonas replied levelly then smoothly changed the subject. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"It was probably because I went to bed so freaking early. I told Taggert it was too early to go to bed."

Jonas put a hand to Jackson's low back, leading him toward the stairs. "I seriously doubt that's why you couldn't sleep. Any other ideas?"

"I don't know what it was," Jackson replied tightly as he topped the stairs and stepped into the kitchen.

"What was what?" Taggert asked, swirling a spoon in a fresh cup of coffee.

"What was keeping Jackson from sleeping."

"Taggert, when does 'day' start?" Jackson demanded, planting his hands firmly on his hips.

Taggert glanced at Jonas with a question playing in his eyes then turned back to Jackson. "What do you mean?"

"Just tell me, when does 'day' start?"

"It doesn't matter," Jonas stated mildly, reaching past Taggert to get a coffee cup out of the cabinet. "You heard what I said downstairs."

"What did I miss?" Taggert asked.

"*He* said that me being on the internet before daylight counts as internet time today *and* tomorrow," Jackson mutinied. "That's not fair because the day hadn't started! The sun isn't even up now!"

"If that's what he said, then that's what he meant," Taggert informed him with a raised brow. "He's in charge of your scheduling, and if he said it counted, that should be the end of it."

"But why can't I be on the internet if I can't sleep?!" Jackson argued. "What difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference because I said it does," Jonas told him.

"But that's not fair!"

"Settle down," Taggert warned. "He didn't say you couldn't be online, he's keeping you to your allotted time per day. Now, let's not start today off badly."

"Let's not have another bad day like yesterday is what you mean," Jackson flung the accusation at Taggert.

"Is that what I said?"

"No, but that's what you meant." Jackson's eyes began to burn in frustration.

"I say what I mean, Jackson, trust me. I don't play games. And I meant what I said when I told you I wanted this conversation to end and I'm sure Jonas would agree."

"Amen to that," Jonas concurred.

He had no chance when it was two against one! That realization made it all the more difficult to keep his mouth shut, and he couldn't help ignoring the fact that he had already fucked up the night before. His temper built like lactic acid in the legs of a runner, fueling his mouth with a determination to win the race, despite Taggert's warning to stop.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled through clenched teeth insincerely. "But I don't think it's fair. I should have at *least* gotten a warn- OW!"

Taggert had been lightning fast, his palm landing twice out of nowhere against Jackson's thinly covered backside. Jackson's mouth hung open in stunned surprise as the sting blossomed behind him.

"We said that's enough," Taggert reminded him with a stern tone. He maintained a grip on Jackson's upper arm, poised to repeat the process if needed. "Are you finished arguing now?"

Jackson's face burned with embarrassment as he avoided Taggert's forbidding stare. "Yes, sir," he mumbled quietly.

Taggert gave him a moment to recant before he let go of Jackson's arm. "Thank you."

Jackson struggled to keep his face from crumbling as tears of regret pricked his eyes, precariously close to falling. The shock of being swatted doused the flames of his temper like ice water down his back. How could he have messed up again already?! And so soon after he reminded himself not to just the night before. Why should he be surprised? He had never, in his whole life, been able to stay out of trouble no matter how hard he tried.

Wicked memories of his teen years flooded back when, time after time, he had sworn he would do better in a new foster home, only to fail miserably. The foster families got tired of his acting out, tired of his mouth, tired of his temper, and once again he would be sent back to the state to arrange alternate living arrangements. He couldn't bear to think of Jonas and Taggert giving up on him. At least he didn't have to worry about them using him as a punching bag like when he was in foster care.

He bit his lip, both to keep silent and to maintain his composure as he boarded up the awful memories. He took a deep shuddering breath and reminded himself that things were going to be different here. History was *not* going to repeat itself if he had anything to do with it, and he had a lot to do with it. He wasn't going to give them a reason to send him back.

"Coffee?" Taggert interrupted Jackson's thoughts with an easy air of normalcy.

"I guess so," Jackson quietly replied. He kept his eyes averted from Jonas and Taggert, fearing the disappointment he'd find in them.

"So you're off to the art gallery with me today," Jonas said, pulling a white ceramic mug out of the cabinet and handing it to Jackson. Jackson could feel Jonas' assessing eyes on him before he leaned over, placing a warm kiss on Jackson's cheek as he did so. "It's going to be a great day."

Jackson risked a glance at Jonas and saw support, not disappointment, in his eyes; Jackson couldn't deny it if he wanted to. Jackson took the mug and said a simple, "Yeah, thanks."

"You'll have your first art class this afternoon. Are you excited?" Taggert asked.

"Yeah," Jackson replied with a shrug as he filled his coffee cup.

"Are you sure?" Jonas teased. "It's not a root canal, you know."

Jackson's dejected expression cracked, and he allowed a small smile to touch the corners of his mouth. "I'm excited."

"This art teacher is pretty good," Jonas said. "It's Barry; the guy you've heard me talk about so much. He always manages to come in on your school days instead of the gallery days."

"I know."

"How many will be in the class?" Taggert asked Jonas.
 "I didn't ask exactly how many he had this time but it's usually about four or five people."

Four or five people Jackson didn't know. He shook off the feeling of dread that came with the idea of having to meet and interact with a bunch of new people. The key was to focus on learning how to paint. He had to do a good job: there was no room for failure.

"You've never had an art class before, right?" Taggert asked.

"No," Jackson said absently as he stared into the warm brown liquid of his mug. "I just doodle."

"You're a good doodler," Jonas said, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island. "One of the best I've seen. And you know, you might not like painting. You might want to try some charcoals or something different, so don't feel pressured. It's not a test, it's an adventure."

"I don't feel pressured," Jackson stated honestly. The pressure was only going to come if he painted with the skill of a two-year old who was just introduced to Crayolas. At least he wouldn't eat the brushes.

"You're going to surprise yourself, I'll bet. You have a real talent, my love."

The thought of Jonas finding his simple doodling to be something special filled Jackson with cautious pride. It was nice to know that Jonas thought so highly of his ability, but he had serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea. His doodles came easy to him, not a struggle like math. God. Math. He was glad that class was over. He hoped he'd be able to make Taggert equally proud of him with what he did in college, especially after disappointing him to the point he felt he had to swat his mouthy partner.

"I'm going to do my best," Jackson promised.

"That's the way to look at it," Jonas said. "We want you to have the chance to explore your opportunities and then help you decide what you like best to give you something to focus on." Jonas looked at the kitchen clock. "And right now, we need to focus on getting our butts ready and eat some breakfast. We need to be out of here by 7:30 today."

"Ok," Jackson answered.

"Want to shower together?" Jonas pulled Jackson to him until their hips bumped against each other. "We can get ready twice as fast that way."

"Not with that look in your eye, we can't," Jackson grinned shyly.

Jonas kissed him. "We have time. I'm the scheduler, remember?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Jonas fumbled with the keys until he selected one from the mix, slipping it into the keyhole of the art gallery door.

They stepped inside and Jonas switched on the track lights tucked high into the rafters of the warehouse-type ceilings. Row after row of corner partitions lined the front room with works of art hung on each available wall. Jackson never saw the ensemble that it he didn't recall the detention center full of corners on The Island. Starkly different, yet so similar to the mini-walls in Jonas' gallery. The corners in the gallery were adorned with colorful paintings hanging on each wall, rather than being covered by the bare gray paint of the corners in the detention center.

Jonas nodded toward the middle of the room. "This is the artist we're spotlighting this month that I told you about – Juliet Fuentes. Check out the new paintings I hung yesterday."

Jackson stepped in front of one of the pieces of artwork and stared at it, squinting to make it out. "I can't tell what it is."

"Step back," Jonas advised him with a tug to the back of his jacket.

Jackson focused on the canvas as he took three steps backward, and the blob of a square took on a sort of form he hadn't seen before, and suddenly it became an old house on the edge of a lake. Water had been scratched onto the canvas amid shades of blue, black, green and white, and a rowboat lay forgotten, propped against the side of the house, awaiting the moment when it would be lowered into the quiet waters of the lake nearby. The water was smooth and calm, just like the rest of the serene scene in the painting.

"Wow," Jackson breathed in admiration. "That's a great picture."

"It is, isn't it? There's some more of her work over here."

Jackson rounded the partition and viewed another painting hanging on the other side. To be only vaguely familiar with the various paint mediums, Jackson took the picture to have been done in water colors. This scene was set in the center of a small town, the plate glass of various storefronts aligning the street that people walked on. They appeared to be in no hurry, this one strolling with his hands in his pockets, that one gazing into a store window. The blues and greens of the painting's theme were accented by a splash of purple here and there that gave the picture a simple and unstated flair of color.

"She's really good," Jackson appreciated her work. "I wish I could paint like that."

"You just might be able to." Jonas smiled with pride at his newest lover, looped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close for a kiss to his temple. "I hope you enjoy the class today."

"I'm excited but a little nervous, too," Jackson admitted uncertainly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I want to do it but I don't want to screw up."

"You won't screw up. I've seen your work and it's my business to know good art."
"You saw my *doodling*. Nothing at all like this," he commented as he studied the paintings.

"You're talented. Don't sell yourself short. Now, like I said, watercolors might not be your thing, but you can try this painting class and see how you like it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

Jackson nodded as he turned his attention back to the gallery. No pain, no gain, either, Jackson reminded himself. "So what are we going to do all day?" Jackson asked. "You already got the exhibit all finished."

"Well, I thought we'd work on some framing. I have a few projects back there."

"Have you gotten very far?" Jackson asked, following Jonas to the backroom where they did their framing work.

"I got the prints to the framing room," Jonas smiled. "Does that count?"

"Not exactly."

Light flooded the backroom when Jonas flipped the switch. "Ok, here are two prints that go together. That's for one customer. We have two others over here."

Jackson looked at the up-close shot of a cluster of four-leafed clovers. "I don't remember seeing this one. It's small."

"It's fairly new. We're double-matting it with a wide mat. Four inches all around."

"That will look nice," Jackson said, forming a mental image of the print surrounded by a heavy mat edge. "What do you want me to do?"

"Why don't you grab the mats, then I'll cut and you hinge. The ticket has the mat colors on it."

"Ok." Jackson checked the ticket and pulled the corresponding mats for Jonas. "1622 and 2045," Jackson reported as he handed the mats over.

"Thanks. You know what I was thinking?" Jonas said as he carefully measured the first mat. "We can watch the Blue Angels from the roof of the gallery this year."

"The Blue Angels?"

"From the Naval Academy. It's right here downtown, and the Blue Angels are Navy pilots who do flight shows, and they've done it for years. They do a show for the Naval Academy graduation every year in May. Wednesday, this year, I think."

"That sounds neat."

"It really is. We have friends – Sam and Joanne, who you'll get to meet. They have a membership at the Fleet Club down the street, and we usually go with them and some other friends, get lunch, eat on the roof, and watch the show. We can watch from right here this year if we want to."

The bell on the front door chimed and the two men turned toward the sound. Jonas was just lining up the mat to be cut, so Jackson volunteered to check out front. "I'll go," he said, heading out of the back room.

A man with short-cropped reddish hair waltzed through the front room, fumbling a heavy bag, as Jackson entered. The stranger immediately shifted the bag to his left hand, outstretching the other toward Jackson. "Ah, you must be Jackson," the man said with a tinge of an Irish accent.

Jackson looked at the stranger, and offered his hand warily, and it was instantly engulfed by the man's meaty mitt. "I am."

"I'm Barry O'Hara," the stout man said with a warming smile. "I've heard so much about you, I feel like I know you already."

Ah, Barry. Jackson had heard equally a lot about him. "The art teacher."

"And friend. I'm here quite a bit, and can't believe I've managed to miss you every time since you got here. I was beginning to think you were a figment of Jonas' imagination!"

"No, I'm real. Nice to finally meet you," Jackson said cordially. "Jonas says you're a great artist and teacher."

He shrugged humbly. "I hear you're a bit of an artist yourself?"

"I don't know about that," Jackson replied meekly. His cheeks warmed at the praise from this man he had just met.

"I'll be teaching the class this afternoon that you're going to be in. It should be a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I'm excited about it. I just hope I don't suck," Jackson said, although a bit of his apprehension dissipated upon meeting his new teacher. The man seemed genuinely good-natured, and wasn't a bit intimidating.

"Don't worry about a thing. You're going to do fine." Barry winked at Jackson with certainty. "I just stopped by to drop some things off."

Jonas appeared from the backroom. "Barry, how's it going?"

"Good. You finally let this fine young man out of his cell so I could meet him."

Jonas laughed. "He's out on work release. He goes back in on the weekend."

"I'm glad he was out long enough that I could meet him," he joked back. "Well, I best drop this off and get a move on so I can get my errands taken care of before I need to be back."

He started toward the stairs leading to the classroom area and Jonas intercepted the bag Barry was carrying. "I'll get that for you."

"Thanks." Barry heaved the bag over to Jonas.

"No sample of what you guys will be painting?" Jonas asked, peering into the bag filled with brushes, paints, and various other supplies.

"It's coming back with me." Barry checked his watch and whistled. "Gotta run."

"See you later," Jackson said.

"That you will," he said, with a tip of his head. "Later, gents."

"Bye, Barry." Jonas turned to Jackson as the front door swung closed. "And that was Barry."

"Seems like a nice enough guy."

"He really is."

Jackson slipped his hands in his pockets and looked around the gallery at all the impressive art work. No way could he be a painter. He really wished he could be, knowing what Jonas' expectations were. "I hope I do ok."

"You'll do more than ok," Jonas said. "I'm sure of it."

Jackson wasn't so sure. He followed Jonas back to their framing project, a task he was much more confident with since Jonas had taught him so well. They finished up the four prints and Jonas left messages with the customers that their pictures were ready for pick-up.

Jackson kept himself busy the rest of the day, given that the alternative was to study "if you want", according to Jonas. Jackson didn't want. Even having to dedicate only three days a week to his classes, it was more than enough. Before he knew it, Barry was back.

"Is it time already?" Jackson asked when he saw the man.

"Hello, again," he brightened the room as he swung in, carrying canvas bags stuffed with more painting supplies. "Just about."

"We start at 2:30?"

"On the dot."

Jonas leaned his elbows on the counter by the register. "Do you have a copy of what you'll be teaching them to paint this time?"

"Sure do." Barry pulled a picture out of one sack and held it up for them to see. "What do you think?"

Jackson's mouth fell open at the beautiful and peaceful scene that Jonas and Barry expected him to paint. A lone lighthouse stood atop a rocky island under rolling clouds, a little outbuilding flanking it on one side as the water crashed against the shoreline. In the distance from the small island, the water stood calm and still, a sail boat bobbing in the arms of the water. Beams from the top of the lighthouse darted into the semi-darkened sky to light the way for boats traveling in the night.

Jackson admired the detail in the painting and absently drew his fingers through his dark hair. How in the world would he ever get anywhere close to pulling off a work of art like that? Just because he could scribble something recognizable that resembled waterfalls or people's profiles didn't mean he could conjure up a work of art. Jonas was nice to think so, but Jackson knew better. He hated that he was going to have to prove that to Jonas. If only he were as talented as Jonas believed him to be.

"Not bad," Jonas appreciated the work. "You should teach or something, Barry."

"Wish I had thought of that," he smiled, clapping a hand to Jonas' shoulder. "I'm going upstairs to set up. Want to help me out, Jackson?"

Jackson cast a nervous glance over to Jonas who nodded in support. "I can handle things down here," he assured Jackson.

"Ok. I'll be up in a second, Barry." Jackson waited until the man had climbed the stairs to whisper urgently to Jonas. "I'm not too sure about this Jonas. I can't paint like that."

"You'll be fine," Jonas reassured him. "You don't have to be Picasso to enjoy an art class. Remember, the other students are not pros, either, Jackson, and Barry's a great teacher. It's going to be ok, I promise."

Jackson's brow creased as he worriedly looked toward the stairs. "I don't know, Jonas…"

"Trust me." Jonas took both Jackson's hands in his and kissed him. "Have fun with it. Now, go on and help Barry."

Jackson drew in a deep breath and trudged up the stairs. He'd go through the motions to make Jonas and Taggert happy, and more importantly, not disappoint them. He was going to do the best he could; hopefully, it wouldn't suck.

~~~~~~~~~

"I tried to tell you," Jonas said to Jackson, stealing Taggert's drink out of his hand and takng a swallow.

"I know, but I was nervous," Jackson reported.

"I'm so glad to hear it went well," Taggert said, tipping Jackson's face up for a kiss.

"I should call Brad."

"Go ahead," Taggert told him. "We'll get started on dinner while you're gone."

Jackson's feet barely touched the floor as he rushed down the basement stairs, and Taggert grimaced at the thunder of his footfalls pounding down the steps like buffalo. "I'm glad he had a good day."

"He wasn't too sure of the class before it started," Jonas told him as he took the chicken out of the refrigerator. "I was so glad it went well. Not that I was too worried; Barry's great with his students. His classes fill up fast."

Taggert reached around him to grab the green pepper. "I was worried he might spike under the pressure since he didn't sleep well."

"I didn't think about that so I'm glad you didn't tell me."

"I think Brad had some good points last night. It would help Jackson if he went to bed early for a while."

"It probably would." Jonas pushed odd and end kitchen utensils around in a drawer as he peered inside. "Where's the other cutting board?"

"It's right there where you're looking." Taggert pulled a knife from the butcher block. "What did Brad say he did? An hour early?"

"Yeah," Jonas answered absently, still searching in the drawer. "It's not here."

Taggert huffed mildly and reached into the drawer putting his hand right on the flexible plastic cutting mat. "Here."

Jonas gave him an embarrassed half-smile. "Thanks. If it had been a snake, and all that."

Taggert grabbed a cutting mat for himself and started on the vegetables. "So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Jackson? Early bed?"

"Oh. It probably isn't a bad idea." He opened an upper cabinet door and searched through bottles of spices. "Where's the ginger?"

Taggert let out a loud and long breath, then reached past Jonas, wrapping his fingers around the ginger right away. "What do you know?" Jonas said, taking the small bottle. "Another snake."

"The next one is going to bite you." Taggert pulled him close and nipped at Jonas' bottom lip seductively.

Jonas gave him a throaty growl before giving him a solid kiss then releasing him back to his chopping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jackson was elated after the successful painting class, a tad more optimistic that he might be able to actually do something worthwhile. The intimidation that was overwhelming before the class started, began to dissipate when he met his classmates who, as Jonas promised, were also novices and simply there to learn. Barry had shown himself to be a patient teacher, walking them unhurriedly through the beginning stages of creating a replica of the lighthouse picture.

"And how was your day?" Brad asked Jackson over the phone.

"It was really good," Jackson answered sincerely. "I started my painting class."

"I heard you were going to do that today. And?"

"I'm still not sure I can paint like Jonas seems to think I can, but Barry – that's the teacher- said that we'd take it a step at a time, and he seems sure we can do it, too. 'We' meaning the people in my class." Jackson rambled excitedly about the day and all that he learned in class. "Susan – that's this hoity toity lady in the class – she doesn't have any doubts about her ability, but I don't think it's because she's a great painter. I mean, it's her first class, too. Then there are these two older women, Sue – not Susan – and her sister Ruth. I really like them, they're like 'mom' types, really sweet. They've taken a couple of classes with Barry. I'm the only guy in the class, by the way, but it's ok –"

Brad smiled as he listened to Jackson's enthusiastic banter, wondering if he would pause for a breath before he turned purple from lack of oxygen.

"Then we did the blue layer – that's what Barry said is called a wash, which is funny because we're painting a water scene," he paused for a quick chuckle, "and we started to sketch out where the lighthouse was going to be, and the island – not *The* Island, the one the lighthouse is on…"

Brad waited until Jackson ran out of steam and information, merely answering with encouraging "yeah"s and "uh huh"s until he finished. "Sounds like you had an exciting day."

"I did. It was a lot of fun."

"So, besides the class, you're settling in ok?"

"Yeah." Jackson hopped onto the edge of the desk and swung his feet.

"Except for having trouble sleeping," Brad pointed out.

Jackson groaned and rolled his eyes. "Braaa-ad!"

Brad ignored the annoyed whine. "Remember when you first got here?"

"Yes. I remember you being bossy about early bedtime, too. What is it with you Alphas and early bed?"

"We send you early if we think you need it. Did you need it recently?"

Jackson started to absently doodle on the notepad by the phone. "Maybe."

"Jackson."

"I might have gotten a little annoyed with Taggert last night," Jackson explained. "I was tir—um, I didn't feel like doing my homework, which might have already been a little late."

"And you argued about it."

"Yes."

"No arguing when your Alpha tells you to do something, especially when it's something you were already supposed to have done. Capiche?"

"I don't speak Italian."

"Jackson Barnes…" Brad growled sternly.

Jackson sighed at the invocation of the hard tone he knew so well. "Yes, I understand."

"And if they say 'early bed', that means…?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"Well, it's easier to sleep if you aren't talking, but that's close enough. They might suggest early bedtimes a lot at first, just like I had to when you came here. It takes you a little while to get used to being in a new place before your sleep isn't disrupted, and that's when you aren't sharing a bed. We both know that."

"I guess." Jackson suddenly dropped the pencil, and he sat up straight. "Wait. Did you tell them to give me permanent early bed like when I got to The Island?"

"Would I do that?"

"Yes."

"That's between you and them," Brad laughed softly. "It's not my call anymore."

"You're just here to advise," Jackson said with a touch of sarcasm.

"Exactly. Since I'm finished advising for the day, you'd better go back and join your partners. I'm glad to hear you had a good painting class."

Jackson smiled. "Thanks. See you later, Brad."

Jackson hopped off the desk and glanced at the darkened computer after he hung up the phone. He couldn't help bristling a bit at not being able to get online. He was convinced that the wee hours of the morning shouldn't count, but given the fact he had been shot down by Jonas and swatted by Taggert, he wasn't arguing the point anymore. He also wasn't going to bring up anything about early bed, hoping Brad's suggestion went unheeded by Jonas and Taggert. Neither of them had said anything, so he was keeping his fingers crossed.

Sighing at his loss of internet privilege, he reluctantly left the untouched computer, and climbed the stairs to join Jonas and Taggert in the kitchen. Strips of chicken lay on the cutting board near the stove where Jonas was working, and Taggert was in the process of chopping a green pepper. Heating oil sizzled in the frying pan, and Jonas tossed some minced garlic in with the ginger and oil, as he turned to see Jackson in the doorway.

"Hey, there. I was just getting ready to pour us some wine. Do you want some?"

Jackson noticed the green bottle on the counter alongside of two wine glasses. "Is it chardonnay?"

"It's Pinot Grigio. Ecco Domoni. Do you like white? We weren't sure if you even liked wine," Jonas explained. "We know you like beer, but we were in the mood for a little wine tonight."

"I like white wine. I'll have some."

"Great." Jonas opened the cabinet and took down another glass then poured a serving for the three of them.

He handed Jackson a glass, then sat Taggert's on the kitchen island where he was working. "Thanks."

Jonas looked at Taggert's progress over his shoulder. "Are you slacking? I'm ready to toss the chicken in if you're going to be done shortly."

"Don't tease me. I have a knife." Taggert turned his head and kissed Jonas quickly.

Jackson stood helplessly with his wine, feeling utterly useless as the other two were busy with the cooking. He wasn't used to being waited on; Brad always made sure he did his share in the cottage.

"Don't you want me to do something?" he asked Taggert.

"Sure," Taggert tipped his head toward the space next to him. "You want to start on the red pepper? You can help keep Jonas off my back."

"I thought you liked it when I'm on your back," Jonas said from the stove as he tossed the chicken in, raising a din of sizzling from his side of the room.

"I like you on my front, too," Taggert teased. "Jackson, grab a knife out of the block over there."

"You don't know how to make fried rice, do you, Jackson?" Jonas quickly stirred the chicken at the stove. "We'd be happy to have you make that."

"No, sorry," Jackson answered as he took up a spot next to Taggert at the kitchen island with knife in hand. "I've never made it."

"It'll be Uncle Ben's in a bag from the microwave, I guess," he said woefully. "We really need to learn to make that."

"Or we could just buy fried rice take-out around the corner," Taggert suggested an alternative.

"That sounds easier," Jackson voted.

"So, how was your chat with Brad?" Taggert asked, chopping the last bit of green pepper into thin strips.

"It was good. I told him about today and my painting class."

"And?"

"I told him it was good but that I'm still not sure I can do it."

"But that you were willing to give it a try, and you trusted my judgment anyway." Jonas gave him a peck on the cheek as he grabbed the prepared vegetables for the stir-fry.

The encouragement raised a bashful half-grin in Jackson. "Yeah."

They finished making dinner and spent the mealtime talking about their day and plans for the next. Jackson had all but forgotten Brad's suggestion about going to bed early by the time they cleared the table and cleaned the dishes.

"I'm about to burst," Jonas said, as he put the clean frying pan away.

"Me, too," Jackson said. "Not bad for a few amateur chefs."

"We didn't do too badly, did we?" Taggert agreed. "Well, I have a few bills to pay and email to check. You don't have any homework to do, Jackson, so what are you and Jonas going to do for fun while I slave away at the computer?"

Jackson thought for a moment and shrugged. "I don't know. It's too dark to hike outside now."

Jonas glanced out the window into the night as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. "Yeah, we'd have to stick to the sidewalks, no trails. How about we pretend to be a couple of slugs and watch TV?"

"That works for me." Jackson followed him downstairs and then piled up on the sectional sofa as Jonas surfed for something to watch.

They finally settled on a movie and Taggert joined them once he was finished in the office, and they enjoyed a quiet evening together.

Jackson yawned and rested his head on Taggert's shoulder, and Taggert gently poked Jackson in the ribs. "Don't fall asleep right there. It's time to hit the sack. It's nine, and it looks like you're ready anyway."

Jackson bolted upright between Jonas and Taggert, instantly wide awake. "What? Why?!"

Taggert looked at Jonas uncertainly. "You didn't tell him?"

Jonas glanced worriedly at Jackson before he answered. "I didn't think we decided whether we were going to do that or not."

"I thought we did."

Jackson held up both hands and waved them. "Hello! Sitting right here!" he blurted. "Would someone like to tell the only one of us apparently in the dark why the hell he has to go to bed early again?"

Taggert looked from Jonas to Jackson. "Take a breath, and calm down, Jackson. Jonas and I talked about doing it because you still aren't sleeping well. You need your rest."

"I *don't* need more rest! I should know if I need more rest or not."

Both Alphas' eyebrows went up in tandem at the tone as much as the words. "Watch out. You're pushing it, Jackson," Jonas cautioned.

Jackson blew right past the warning. There was no reason for early bed besides the fact that Brad recommended it! "This came from Brad, and he isn't even here. He doesn't know everything!"

"All right, cut it out." Jonas staunched the tirade, getting up from the sofa and moving toward the office. "We need a sidebar, Taggert."

"Is this more punishment for being on the computer from Taggert?!" Jackson demanded, getting to his feet as well. "If it is, I wasn't on it that long and more punishment would be overkill after you took my internet time! Tell him, Jonas!"

Jonas turned around and took Jackson by the hands, and spoke calmly. "Hey. I'm not 'telling him' anything. Whatever we decide, it will be our decision together. Taggert and I are going to discuss this, get on the same page, and then we'll get back to you. We just had a miscommunication, that's all."

"But--!"

"You need to stay out here while we talk it over, ok?" Taggert told him. "You work on calming down, while we work out what we think is best and make a decision. Our decision, not Brad's."

Jackson balked then crossed his arms and threw himself onto the sofa when neither man crumbled at his fury. They wordlessly left him alone while they figured out if he was twelve or twenty. It was SO not fair! This was all Brad's doing, he just knew it! It had Brad's fingerprints all over it, not to mention his implication earlier that he had suggested it. How could he know what Jackson needed all the way from The Island?! He couldn't know! Jonas and Taggert were close enough to know, and Jackson would be willing to bet they wouldn't have considered early bed without Brad's direction.

This sucked! If Brad were anywhere nearby, Jackson would wring his neck for meddling. They didn't need all his sage advice; they had made it a month with barely a bump in the road, thanks to Jackson staying on his game.

Jackson glared at the television, yet paying no attention to what he was watching. It wouldn't matter what they decided, he finally concluded. He was too angry to sleep whether he went to bed or not.

Taggert closed the office door behind him and turned to Jonas. "What was that all about?"

"He's pissed."

"I meant you," Taggert said with his eyebrows raised pointedly. "I thought we agreed."

Jonas threw his hands up. "No, we didn't. When did we agree? We never even got far enough to discuss what we were going to say or who was going to say it. We were just talking about it."

"Didn't we both agree after we talked to Brad that he needed his sleep to keep him from being overstressed?"

Jonas gave his partner a short nod. "We did agree that he gets wound up and stressed when he loses sleep, yes. But we never agreed that he needed to go to bed at 9 starting tonight."

Taggert closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I assumed – and yes, I know what that means – that if we agreed he needed his sleep, and that Brad's suggestion of an hour early made sense, then we were sending him to bed early."

"What made you think it was my responsibility to cover that little nugget with him?"

"I just thought that since you're in charge of scheduling that you had –"

"You assumed…"

"Yes," Taggert nodded wearily, "I assumed you told him while you two were together and I was paying bills."

"Didn't you wonder why you never heard an explosion?"

"I thought it must have gone well. I assumed again."

Jonas sighed and Taggert followed suit. "Damn."

"Double damn," Taggert echoed. "We really messed this one up."

"Royally. We all knew this sort of thing could happen," Jonas reminded him calmly. "Next time, we'll be clear on what we've agreed to and who's doing the telling."

"Deal." Taggert sagged against the edge of the desk, and folded his arms. "So what have we agreed to and who's doing the telling because I still don't know."

"Well, he did lose close to two hours last night. Two hours that we know of."

"The way he's lashing out tells me he could use the extra sleep."

Jonas blew out a breath. "I agree with that. If he keeps on mouthing off in that tone, he's liable to be headed for soap. If we hadn't screwed this up, I'd say he might even be there already."

Taggert bobbed his head in agreement. "True. Us messing up doesn't give him the right to talk to us like he did, and that needs to stop. He needs to hear that, too."

"I agree."

"Do you also agree to early bed tonight and until he's sleeping better?"

"Yeah."

"And you're telling him?"

Jonas rubbed his face and sighed again. "You already sort of told him, but I guess I can be the bearer of glad tidings and reiterate the point. He's going to be mad."

"More mad. He's already mad. That doesn't mean he can be disrespectful."

"I totally agree. What should we do if he is? Have another sidebar?"

Taggert laughed. "If we keep having sidebars, early bed isn't going to be an issue. It's ten after now."

"How about this? If either of us feels he crosses the line, that person goes for the soap. We'll have to trust each other's judgment on that one."

"Works for me. You ready?"

Jonas took a deep cleansing breath. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

They left the office and found Jackson still fuming on the sofa where they'd left him, rigid and scowling as badly as he was when they last saw him. The time apart hadn't seemed to make the heart grow fonder, Jonas observed.

Jonas bolstered his strength, despite Jackson's posture, sat down beside him and took his hand. "Jackson, before I tell you our decision, let me warn you that neither of us is happy with the things you were saying and how you were saying them. That, in and of itself, is totally unacceptable. In the future, you'll get your mouth soaped when you talk that way to us. Is that clear?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the forewarning. Why would he need to be warned if he was going to be ok with their decision?! "You're going to make me go to bed early, aren't you?" he surmised.

"We're not talking about that right now, we're talking about the way you talked to us. It would be disrespectful in any relationship to say the kinds of things you said earlier. We don't talk to you that way, and we expect the same consideration. Is that clear?"

"As clear as anything can be to a 12 year old who needs to go to bed early," Jackson spat.

Jonas looked up wearily at Taggert who was standing beside them. "Not clear enough I guess," Taggert said. "That's exactly the kind of comment Jonas is talking about."

Jackson scowled at the injustice of it all. "Well, I have a right to be mad if I want to, and I'm ticked because you're only doing what Brad told you to do, not because you thought of it on your own."

"You can be angry without being rude, and this is your last warning," Jonas said.

Jackson crossed his arms defiantly and stared straight ahead. "Fine. Just say it, and get it over with," Jackson demanded.

Jonas took a beat before he lowered the boom. "We did decide you should go to bed early," he held up a hand when Jackson's mouth fell open to argue some more, "wait a second and let me finish. You need to trust us when we say we think you need more rest. You lost sleep last night and sending you to bed early isn't to punish you, it's so you can make up for that loss and not get stressed unnecessarily."

Jackson's voice was frigid and clipped. "The *reason* I was awake early today was because I went to bed too early last night. Just like I told you would happen when you made me do it," he accused Taggert. "Now, I have to pay the price tonight for your decision last night."

"Excuse me?" Taggert asked in amazement.

"It's true," Jackson informed him flatly.

"Last night doesn't matter, and arguing about it isn't going to change tonight's decision," Jonas said. "In fact, you're going to bed at nine until further notice."

"What?!" Jackson blurted incredulously. "Every night? Why?!"

"Because we think the extra rest will do you good until you settle in some more," Taggert explained. "It's what we think is best for you."

"You don't know me well enough to make that call yet," Jackson continued to argue.

"You are really pushing it, Jackson." Jonas got up and pulled Jackson to his feet. "Off to bed before your mouth gets you in trouble."

Taggert was greeted with an icy, unresponsive kiss when he tried to say goodnight. "It's past nine now, so you need to get headed upstairs."

Jackson's anger erupted at the two of them summarily dismissing him. It was unfair! A conspiracy. He had every right to be pissed! Pissed at Jonas. Pissed at Taggert. Pissed the most at Brad for planting the idea to begin with.

"I'm not a child! I know when I'm tired!" Jackson dug in his heels, and crossed his arms indignantly.

"All right. I've heard enough, and you've been warned *more* than enough." Taggert took Jackson by the arm, leading him to the little half bath in the basement.

Jackson panicked at the unfamiliar, yet undeniable determination in Taggert's voice. The righteous anger he clung to just seconds before melted away like snow on a sunny day. Why couldn't he ever stop before he went beyond the point of no return?!

"Wait! What did I say that was so wrong?! All I did was express my opinion. I didn't realize that wasn't allowed," Jackson argued even as Taggert unwrapped a fresh bar of familiar soap on a stick, a special recipe from The Island.

Taggert stopped and pointed his finger at Jackson. "Right there. That's what you're saying wrong. It's how you're saying it as much as what you're saying. Jonas warned you just a minute ago and I warned you earlier."

"But this isn't fair," Jackson debated, his voice cracking with frustrated tears. "None of it's fair."

Taggert shook the water from the bar of soap, unrelenting. "Open up."

Jackson's tired eyes flashed despite being faced with the dripping bar of soap. "Fine," he spat.

Taggert put the soap in Jackson's mouth then turned him to the wall next to the shower. Jackson's eyes burned with angry tears as the bitterness of the soap seeped into every crevice in his mouth. He knew he had said things he shouldn't have but they screwed up, too, damn it! Two Alphas were quite enough, let alone adding Brad to the mix. He was outnumbered! Outnumbered to an unfair advantage. How could the three of them treat him that way? How could they assume to know what he needed? Well, fine! Jonas and Taggert were going to get their way in the end because now he *wanted* to go to bed – alone! – pull the covers over his head and not come out.

After a couple minutes had passed, Taggert removed the soap and let Jackson rinse. "Ok. Are you ready to go to bed without arguing and being rude?"

"Yes." Jackson kept his eyes averted from either of the men in the little bathroom. "Can I go now?"

"Yes," Jonas said, kissing him on the temple with a hug goodnight, while Jackson's arms remained at his sides. "We'll be up a little later."

Jackson wheeled away from them and stormed up the stairs, taking his frustration out on the risers. Taggert put the soap in the plastic container that came with it for storage, and turned to Jonas. "Well, that went about as bad as it could have."

"Soap was the right thing to do. He was totally out of line even if we messed up on the early bed message."

Taggert gripped the back of his neck and squeezed his tight muscles while he closed his eyes. "If it was the right thing to do, why do I feel like crap?"

"Because we love him. No one said it would be easy."

"I feel like we made things worse. He's still pissed," Taggert observed, looking toward the stairs. "Even more pissed than before."

"Do you think there are holes in the stairs now? He was really stomping."

"I hope not. We'll have trouble getting upstairs to talk to him." Taggert sighed and looked up as though he could see through two levels of the house into their bedroom. "Which we should go do now."

"Stairs feel pretty solid to me," Jonas said as he tested the first riser, raising a tired chuckle from his partner. He grabbed Taggert's arm. "Wait. Should we give him some space instead?"

"I don't know; you know what they say about going to bed mad." Taggert thought about it. "Maybe we test the waters? If he seems to be getting worse, back off?"

"Sounds like a good idea. Especially since I don't know what else to do." He turned and started back up the stairs.

They entered the darkened bedroom and Jackson flung himself dramatically onto his belly when he heard them come in. He pulled the covers up tightly around his neck, squeezing his eyes closed tightly. Taggert snapped on the bedside lamp and peeled the covers back away from Jackson's face.

"Jackson." Jackson's clenched eyes didn't so much as flinch when his name was called. Taggert shook his head at Jonas sadly. "Jackson, we know you aren't asleep."

Jackson's eyes remained closed and his body didn't so much as stir. Jonas sat on the bed and leaned against the headboard, facing Taggert, and he fingered Jackson's short dark hair gently. "We're sorry we weren't on the same page and you were caught in the middle. We didn't really get a chance to tell you that downstairs before things… went south. We want to make sure we clear the air."

Taggert could see Jackson's eyes moving under his closed lids. "We're not perfect, and we're going to make mistakes as we feel our way through things. That's not always going to seem fair to you. I feel the same as Jonas; we're sorry we upset you by not communicating like we should have with each other and with you."

Jackson eventually opened his eyes but he remained on his belly with his face turned away from them. Jonas peeked over the top of him and Jackson looked up at Jonas quickly then away again. "Forgiven?"

"I still don't think it's fair," he muttered under his breath into his pillow. "And I have a right to tell you what I think. At least I thought I did."

"Of course you do, and you always will," Taggert told him seriously. He tipped his head toward Jackson and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "But you can't be disrespectful about it."

"We shouldn't have to go ten rounds every time we tell you to do something, either," Jonas added. "Once we've made a decision, we have a reason for it, and we shouldn't have a major drama if we tell you something you don't like."

Jackson gave in and rolled over onto his back. "Can we talk about the nine o'clock bedtime at least?"

Jonas glanced at the clock then cocked an eyebrow. "You mean the 9:30 bedtime? No. The decision has already been made." Jackson gave him a half-hearted scowl. "It's only until you get settled and start sleeping regularly."

"You absolutely got that from Brad. He shouldn't interfere like that, not all the way from The Island."

"Do you think Brad has anything but your best interests in mind?" Taggert asked.

"I guess not."

"You guess not," Jonas repeated with a grin. "You know better. He suggested it, but that didn't mean we had to do it. We thought it was best. When you lose sleep, you get a little grouchy and out of sorts."

"No, I do no—" Jackson started to growl then heard his own tone making their point for them.

Taggert raised his eyebrows as confirmation that he caught it, too. "You were saying?"

"Nothing."

"We're doing this to help, not to be mean," he said.

Jackson snatched the covers up to his neck and twisted back onto his stomach in a huff. "I wish I got a vote."

"You do," Taggert agreed with a half-hearted swat to Jackson's now available backside. "But it's two to one, so you'd be overruled, not to mention it's Jonas' and my decision. That needs to be the end of it. Now, give us a kiss goodnight, and let's get past this."

Jackson reluctantly rolled over and gave Taggert a grudging kiss goodnight. Taggert grimaced. "Soap."

Jackson couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Serves you right."

Taggert didn't miss the small grin playing on Jackson's face, and he felt a burden lift from his shoulders, finally having a sense that they might actually clear this Mount Everest-sized hurdle. "You should be ashamed of yourself," he teased. "I didn't say anything wrong."

"Yes you did. You said I had to go to bed," Jackson reminded him.

"I did, didn't I?"

Jonas leaned over and kissed him, too. "Yuck. That soap is rough. I'd watch the arguing in the future, Jackson."

"You don't have to tell me it's rough. I'm stuck with the aftertaste in my mouth."

Jonas kissed his forehead, unable to resist another kiss, but unwilling to sample more soap. "Goodnight. Don't fret so much about the early bed, sweetheart. It's barely early anymore tonight."

"We'll be in bed with you before you have time to drift off, I'm sure," Taggert promised, tenderly brushing the coal dark hair back with his fingers.

They pulled the door closed behind them, leaving Jackson alone in their room. Jackson felt the clouds clear after Jonas and Taggert apologized. He hadn't expected an apology; it wasn't often that he wasn't the one apologizing. But this time, he really had felt wronged. Wronged and outnumbered. Their apology left him satisfied, if not a little baffled. He appreciated the fact that they could admit they weren't perfect but…

Right… they weren't perfect… Then why was he trying to so hard to be? He sighed as he chewed on the answer to his own question. Because an imperfect Jackson was worse than an imperfect Jonas or Taggert on their worst days. The bitter aftertaste of the soap still permeated his mouth, reminding him of just how bad he had acted. That was while he was trying to not to mess up. What if he had thrown caution to the wind and let his guard down?? What kind of destruction would he have left behind? Would a broken relationship be part of the rubble?

He threw an arm out from under the covers. He wasn't going to find out. Tomorrow was a new day and he was going to make it a good one.