Chapter Text
Troy didn’t like the idea of a bratsitter in the first place, but the choice of AP replacement had displeased him beyond what was reasonable. He played on RBU’s football team, so he should’ve been handed over to a football player, assuming a substitute warden was really necessary, which Troy insisted was absolutely not the case.
Unfortunately, the RBU Division I Men’s Football coaching staff did not believe him. He’d been practically giftwrapped, delivered to a bustling dorm that did not belong to him, and very thoroughly disgusted by the speech his extant AP, an offensive lineman offensively named Colton, gave the bratsitter.
“This is Josie,” Colton said cheerfully, yanking Troy over the threshold by the back of his warmup shirt. “He’ll be looking after you. He has an underclassman AP, but she has to be out of school for a little while, so the timing works out great!”
“Sure. Great.”
A hand came down heavily on his ass and he yelped, flinging his hands back. “Ow! Fuck off!”
That, for some reason, failed to prevent Colton from delivering a few more sharp swats. Then he turned to the guy at the door—Josie, which was also a pretty stupid name, in Troy’s opinion—and gave him an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, man. He’s mouthy. We’ve been working on it, but I don’t think the lesson’s quite stuck.”
“That’s okay,” said Josie. “It’s nice to meet you, Troy. I know you’re not thrilled to be here, but it’s just for a few days, huh?” He extended his right hand, as though he expected Troy to shake it.
Troy sneered. “I don’t need to be here. I understand how spanking works, and I definitely don’t need another tyrant Top breathing down my neck.”
More smacks from Colton. Troy took them with as little visible reaction as possible, then stepped into the dorm when Colton cleared his throat menacingly, glaring at him through the very corner of his eye like his mom used to do when he mimed parroting the pastor in church.
“Be good,” Colton ordered. “I’m getting a full behavior report as soon as I’m back. Nobody’s willing to watch you anymore, and I swear that if you run Josie off too, I’ll double whatever punishment tally you’ve racked up.”
Okay. So maybe Troy had run the bratsitting gamut before. Maybe he’d repelled every fresh authority assigned to him. Maybe the football captain stopped marking him absent from team study sessions because punishing him for skipping was more effort than just pretending he’d showed up. Maybe Topton and her associate coaches had mostly given up on corralling him, and since he refused to break no matter how many swats he took from that evil team paddle, the defensive coordinator had started secretly bribing him with class excusal slips in exchange for reduced sass and tantrum-throwing. Maybe Colton was only semi-effective because he was doing some sort of advanced brat-management course with the lifestyle studies department and taking on a “high dynamic needs” freshman as his AP awarded him class credit.
Maybe he was going to miss Colton a little bit. He was rather fond of him. Colton was genuinely trying to make progress with him, and Troy did feel a tiny bit bad about this friendly, optimistic bratsitter who for sure wouldn’t be able to handle him.
Oh, well. That wasn’t for Josie to know.
“Come on in,” Josie invited. He beckoned Troy inside. “We’ll get you set up on the sofa, alright? I understand that it’s non-ideal, but Colton and Coach Topton were really clear that you need to actually live here for the week.”
‘Really clear’ was an understatement. Colton had forced Troy to pack up everything in his possession that he might possibly need, and hauled it all right to Josie’s doorstep so he couldn’t even arrange for it to go missing during transport. Mean.
Colton also handed Troy’s school paddle directly to Josie, with carte blanche to apply it at his leisure. “Bare is best,” he advised. “I just chuck him over my knee and whale on him until he starts whining for me to stop.”
Troy blushed. That was an unfortunately blunt phrasing, but Colton did do that, and it did work. In fact, it was the only thing that had worked since he’d arrived at RBU and started pushing his luck with every rule he could.
Josie nodded. “Got it. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Thank you,” said Colton. He gave Josie a fist bump. “I appreciate it.”
“And good luck with your uncle’s surgery,” Josie added.
Colton made a grunt of acknowledgement. “Eh. He’ll be fine. Every time he gets a bunion removed, though, he insists on dragging the whole family out, like he’s on his deathbed or something. Anyway.”
He gave Troy a final wave. “Bye, dude. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” Troy said in a small voice. He watched Colton depart, quietly wishing that he would turn back around, ignore his dramatic avuncular summons, and rescue his AP from the entryway of this unfamiliar person’s dorm.
But Colton did not turn back around. Instead, he left him with Josie, in the vestibule of the unknown.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Josie didn’t end up punishing Troy for deliberately spilling ice water all over his slippers (“They’ll dry,”) or refusing vegetables at dinner (“I’m not the bacon cheeseburger police,”) or even kicking up a fuss when bedtime was declared (“It can be hard to feel comfortable sleeping in a stranger’s living room,”) but he eventually ended up putting his foot down right when Troy least expected it.
Troy survived until morning. Somehow. It probably had to do with Colton dropping him off at four-thirty, a measly hour-ish before the sun set, since it was November and everything had to be dreary and miserable and freezing. It had rained until Josie finally persuaded him to go to bed a little after nine, which Troy only did because he felt lonely and a little anxious and he was cold but it felt stupid to open up his suitcase right there in the living room just to fish out an extra sweater.
Putting on his favorite pajamas and crawling under the covers of the massive sofa-bed was so much easier, especially because Josie decided to empty out practically the whole linen closet on the bed. There were more throw blankets and extra pillows than Troy knew what to do with, but hiding underneath them made the big, open living area feel a little safer and smaller. At least the rest of the dorm had been put to bed early too, so nobody disturbed him once he was tucked in.
Troy did not wake up in a positive mood. The dorm was too bright, too loud, and too fragrant. He opened his eyes to someone frying tomatoes, and things seemed to just go downhill from there.
He craned his neck to get a look at the person doing the frying. She was short, with a long curtain of dark hair hiding her profile from his view. “Hey,” he snapped at her. “Can you not do that? I was sleeping, thanks.”
“Sorry,” the girl mumbled. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just trying to make my breakfast, but I can stop.”
“No,” said someone else. This time it was a blonde boy with an irritating quality to his voice that gave him the impression of someone who berated drive-thru workers and thought the word ‘winter’ was a verb. “No, Shauna, you’re fine. It’s the new brat.”
“Okay,” Shauna mumbled.
“Good girl,” the boy told her. He patted her on the back. “It’s ten in the morning on a Saturday. You have every right to feed yourself.”
“She doesn’t have the right to wake me up,” Troy argued, sitting up to better convey the point. “See? Notice how I was sleeping? Notice how that has stopped?”
“Other people live here too,” the boy countered. “Full-time, even. Some of us have delayed our breakfasts to let you sleep in, including Shauna.”
“Delay longer,” Troy suggested. He flopped back down.
The boy strolled around the side of the sofa so he could glare Toppily at him. “I’m going to tell Josie,” he said in a warning tone. “If you’re still being rude when he gets here, he’s not going to be happy.”
“Fake news.” Troy yawned exaggeratively. “You can leave now.”
He did leave, but Troy only got to bask in the glory of his victory for a few seconds before the boy returned with Josie, looking significantly more pissed than he’d expected.
Josie frowned. “Good morning, Troy. Enjoying your weekend?”
“Very much so.”
“Not anymore. Get your butt out of bed and come with me.” Josie reached for the pocket of his sweatpants and patted what Troy, heart sinking, recognized as the handle of his paddle.
“And what if I don’t?” he asked. He liked to get the temperature of things, feel out exactly what consequences might be on the horizon.
“Then I’ll spank you right here and we’ll all watch your bottom change color as a family.” Josie’s tone suggested he wasn’t opposed to the idea.
Troy scrambled to his feet and tagged along as Josie stalked back to his dorm room. “Wait—no!”
Josie did not stop walking. “No, what? No, you don’t deserve a spanking?”
“Exactly!” protested Troy. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Overruled. I’ll stop if you say Yellow or Red, or if you tell me you need to safeword, or if you explain your reservations, but calling discipline ridiculous isn’t going to get you very far with me.” Josie whisked open his door. “Inside, Troy. Now.”
Troy went. It was no longer in his hands. He steeled himself for the familiar feeling of being bent across an unfamiliar knee, or a hard piece of furniture, or told to touch his toes, and getting whacked until he calmed down some. Colton was good at that. He didn’t lecture a whole lot, and he knew what put Troy in check without hurting him.
It was around this time that Troy realized just how little he actually knew about Josie. Basically, just that Colton trusted him, they were at least kind of friendly with each other, and Josie played hockey with one of Colton’s buddies. Oh, and he had a girl AP and owned a lot of spare linens and home goods, just in case a depressed brat landed in his dorm by some stroke of bad luck.
Josie shut the door behind them both, then fixed Troy with a stern look. “That wasn’t a good choice, little boy. You won’t sit still for a week once I’m finished with you.”
Troy’s tummy flipped. “What?” he gasped, a little bit astonished at how few qualms Josie seemed to have about brat-frying. “No, no, that’s not what I agreed to! I thought you were just supposed to, um, keep an eye on me, sir!”
The title slipped out unintentionally, but Troy wasn’t about to backtrack under such conditions. Colton had never threatened him with a week’s worth of soreness. Or addressed him as ‘little boy.’ Or evaluated the quality of his choices.
“I am keeping an eye on you, Troy. I’m also spanking you when you’re disrespectful,” Josie explained. “What did you think you agreed to?”
“To stay here!”
“And are you under the impression that I let the people under my care run wild and make one another feel unwelcome?”
“You didn’t welcome me very much,” Troy sniffed.
“I will point out that you cussed me out literally the second Colton left, then told me not to speak to you unless it was an emergency. Or the Ravens were up.” Josie sat down on his bed, then patted the spot beside him. “Can I help you feel more welcome, honey? Or do you just need me to hold you to the rules right now?”
Troy remained standing. “Nobody holds me to the rules. Not even Colton, sometimes.”
“I think Colton’s aiming to fix that.” Josie patted with slightly more fervor. “It’s not good for brats to escape consequences too often. Then they start thinking they’re too much to handle.”
“I’m a handful,” Troy said defensively.
“That’s nice. I have hands.” Josie used them to remove the paddle from his pocket, then turned it over a couple of times. “Don’t worry, I’ll start applying one to your butt real soon.”
“It won’t work,” Troy argued. “It doesn’t work for anyone except Colton, who isn’t here right now. Even my coaches don’t get the results they want.”
“I’m sorry, Troy. That’s no fun.” Josie nudged open his nightstand drawer and took out a paper-wrapped bar of soap. “Luckily, I’m very good at getting the results I want.”
“Not with me, you won’t be.”
“Trust and believe, honey, I can spank your little bottom so hot and sore that you’ll be begging to tuck your nose in the corner instead.” Josie patted the bed again. “Come chat with me, Troy, please. We need to talk before we do anything else.”
“No,” Troy whined.
“Yes. Right away, please.”
Troy sat, but he kept his arms stubbornly crossed.
Josie smiled. “There we go. See, I knew there was a good boy waiting to come out.” He gave Troy a look of soft approval.
Troy glared back at him. “There’s no good boy here. There never was one to begin with.”
“Of course there is, honey. You just need a little help finding him.” Josie sounded sympathetic, like he wanted to help.
“No!”
“Troy. Do you need to safeword out of anything I’m saying or doing?”
“No,” Troy admitted.
“Do you consent to taking discipline from me?” Josie asked. “As I see fit, with the exception of limit negotiation?”
Troy pouted. “Discipline’s not a nice word.”
“Not nice as in you dislike it, or not nice as in you feel uncomfortable with it?”
“I just hate it. It makes it sound like you’re trying to teach me a lesson. At least punishment means it’s over fast.”
Josie nodded wisely. “Well, I am trying to teach you a lesson. We’re going to learn together what happens when bratting is a symptom of bigger problems.”’
“No!”
“Honey, that’s not useful information. Do I have your consent?”
Troy turned away. “Yes.”
“Okay, Troy. Thank you.” Josie set the paddle beside him. “Now let’s see about getting you settled.”