Chapter 26 Clark
It felt like only minutes had passed when I stirred, surfacing from slumber by slow degrees. Blinking heavy lids, I shifted onto my side. Lifted my head just enough to make out two familiar shapes, curled up like commas on the mattress. Alex, hair sticking up in wild, staticky tufts. Elijah, cheek smushed into the pillow, a damp patch beneath his open mouth.
Grinning to myself, I army crawled my way out of the covers. Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I shuffled towards the door. Time to see what mischief the Daddies had gotten up to while we languished in dreamland. Hopefully there would be fresh cookies involved, if Uncle Lance had anything to say about it.
The man was a baking fiend, forever plying us with an array of mouth-watering treats meticulously tailored to our tastes. Uncle Oliver joked that it was his way of staking a claim, fattening us up so we'd be too round and sluggish to escape his sugary clutches.
My steps quickened as I neared the kitchen, stomach already rumbling in anticipation. But when I rounded the corner, it wasn't our doting Daddies I found.
No, instead I was greeted by the sight of two Littles, huddled together like co-conspirators. One blonde, one auburn, both clad in frothy pink confections.
Kristen and Becca. Aka, the terrible twosome. They were regulars at the club, notorious for their catty remarks and superior attitudes.
Marcus's Littles, both of them. Spoiled rotten and proud of it, forever lording their status over anyone they deemed beneath them. Which, as far as I could tell, was everyone.
Alex, bless his heart, seemed determined to befriend them. To melt their icy exteriors with the sheer force of his sunniness, his dogged belief in the inherent goodness of people. It never worked, of course. They'd rebuff his overtures with cutting words and haughty sniffs, leaving him wilted and stung in their wake.
But Alex was convinced that if he just kept radiating kindness and warmth, eventually, they'd thaw. Realize the error of their ways and welcome him with open arms, apologies tumbling from trembling lips. One day, I feared it would be his undoing.
And now, with Maleficent and Cruella camped out in our kitchen, I had a sinking feeling he'd be trying to befriend them once again.
Right on cue, I heard familiar foot falls behind me. An outraged squawk, followed by the rapid patter of sock-clad feet on hardwood. Alex, it seemed, had awoken. And in true form, charged to greet our guests without a second thought.
I closed my eyes briefly, sent up a quick prayer. Then, I turned to watch the trainwreck unfold.
"Hi there!" Alex chirped, practically vibrating with goodwill as he skidded to a stop beside me. "I'm Alex, in case you forgot. And this is my friend Clark. Welcome."
He stuck out a hand, beaming fit to rival the sun. But Kristen just stared. Raked Alex with a long, assessing look, gaze lingering on his wrinkled dinosaur jammies. The wild nimbus of his bedhead, still flat on one side from the pillow.
When she finally spoke, it was with the dripping disdain of a queen to a peasant.
"Charmed," she drawled, eyeing his proffered hand like it might bite her. "Daddy didn't say anything about spending our playdate with the riffraff, but I suppose we'll just have to make do."
Behind her, Becca laughed. An ugly, snide little sound. Before I could formulate a response, Alex forged ahead gamely.
"Gosh, my apologies for the pajama party chic!" He chuckled, easy and unbothered. "We're usually a bit more coordinated, I swear. Must've misplaced my tiara and scepter between naptimes."
When Kristen simply blinked at him, unimpressed, he tried a different tack. "I love your dress, by the way. That shade of fuchsia is stunning with your skin tone. You look like a fairy princess, all set to twirl away to a grand ball."
The girls, however, remained stone faced. With a haughty sniff, Kristen turned her back on us both, focusing her attention on Becca once more.
I blinked, thrown by the abrupt dismissal. Beside me, Alex visibly deflated, confusion and hurt bleeding through his facade.
Drawing myself up to my full height, I stepped pointedly between them. Fixed Kristen with a hard look, gratified when she blanched and took a hasty step back.
"That was rude," I informed her, quiet but steely. "Alex was just trying to be nice, make you feel welcome. You don't have to be friends, but the least you could do is be polite."
For a second, she gaped at me. Eyes wide and disbelieving, like she couldn't fathom anyone having the audacity to call her out.
But she recovered quickly, drawing herself up with an affronted huff. "How dare you speak to me that way. Don't you know who I am?”
"Kristen, heiress to Daddy's empire" Becca supplied immediately, sugary venom dripping from every word. She crossed her arms, cocked a hip, the very picture of snotty entitlement. "And you'd do well to remember it, Raggedy Clark. We're so far out of your league, it's almost sad."
"Look," I gritted out, struggling for calm. "I don't care who you are or where you came from. When you're a guest in someone's home, you show respect. That's just basic decency."
Becca scoffed, loud and derisive. Kristen, however, was starting to look uncomfortable. A dull flush stained her cheeks, gaze darting around like she expected a Daddy to pop out and chastise her at any moment.
"Listen up, you insignificant little toad," Becca hissed, getting right up in my face. "You're about to learn a very valuable lesson about what happens when you cross us. We can make your lives a living hell with one snap of our fingers. So I'd think very carefully about your next move, if I were you. It would be a shame if certain unsavory rumors started circulating about you and your little playgroup."
My blood ran cold. There was no way they knew about him, did they? About Sterling, about the nightmares that still plagued me. The panic attacks, the crushing self-doubt. All the dirty, desperate things I'd worked so hard to overcome, to leave in the past where they belonged.
It was possible that they knew, and they were threatening to spread it around like cheap gossip. To anyone and everyone who would listen, gleefully tearing me to shreds in the process. I'd be the charity case all over again, the broken toy everyone pitied but no one wanted to play with.
That was the moment Elijah chose to make his grand entrance. All rumpled jammies and sleep-mussed curls, rubbing at his eyes with tiny fists.
"Alex?" He called, words slurred and muzzy with lingering dreams. "Clarkie? Where'd everybody-"
He broke off with a gasp, finally registering the scene before him.
"Oh no," Elijah breathed, hands flying to his mouth. "Oh no, oh Clarkie. It's okay, don't be sad! Lemme go get Daddy, he'll make it all better."
He was already scrambling away, socked feet tangling in his haste. But before he could get more than a few steps, Becca's hand shot out. Clamped around his upper arm, yanking him to a stop hard enough to draw a yelp.
"I don't think so, pipsqueak." Her voice was poisoned honey. "The grown-ups are talking right now, and it's rude to interrupt. You can just wait your turn like a good little boy."
Elijah just blinked up at her, visibly baffled. Then his gaze tracked downward, to where her clawed fingers dug into his soft flesh.
"You're hurting me," he whispered, the words wavering treacherously. A single fat tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another. "Why are you being so mean? We didn't do anything to you."
Kristen barked a harsh laugh, rolling her eyes skyward. "Crybaby," she sneered, leaning in close to Becca's ear. "Surprised he can see anything through all the blubbering. Probably wouldn't know his ass from his elbow on a good day."
And that was the last fucking straw. Rage exploded behind my ribs, white hot and blinding. It erupted from my throat in a wordless snarl, vision whiting out at the edges as I lunged for the hateful little wretch.
How fucking dare she, putting her hands on my sweet friend. Mocking his pain, his gentle heart, like it was something shameful. Like he was something shameful, instead of the brightest spark of goodness in a world gone dark and cold.
But before I could reach her, a large hand clamped down on my shoulder.
"What is going on here?" Uncle Will growled. "Anyone care to explain why the boys look about ready to fall to pieces, while you two stand there smirking like a pair of playground bullies?"
To my vicious satisfaction, Kristen quailed. Took an involuntary step back, face draining of color beneath Uncle Will's blistering glare.
Becca, however, seemed determined to brazen it out.
"It's not our fault they're a bunch of crybabies who can't take a joke," she said, utterly unapologetic. "We were just trying to make conversation, and they completely overreacted. So dramatic, honestly."
Will's eyes narrowed to slits, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw.
"Is that so?" He inquired, dangerously soft. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks an awful lot like you two decided to pick on the boys for giggles. Thought you could waltz in here and throw your weight around, make them feel small just because you could."
He took a step forward, looming like an oncoming storm. Becca tried to match him, tilting her chin up in defiance, but I could see the way her hands shook. The telltale bob of her throat as she swallowed.
"Well I've got news for you, princess," Will continued, implacable. "That stuff doesn't fly in this house. I don't care who your Daddy is or how much money he has - when you're under a Daddy’s roof, you play by their rules. And rule number one? We don't tolerate bullies."
After a long, tense beat, she subsided with a jerky nod. "Fine," she bit out, curt. "We'll play nice with the boys, since it clearly means so much to you."
Uncle Will's lip curled. "One more nasty word, and you're out on your asses. I don't care if I have to call your Daddy myself to come collect you."
A throat cleared pointedly, shattering the moment. I glanced up to see Uncle Lance standing in the doorway, a tray of cookies balanced on one broad palm.
"So," he drawled, eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth. "I miss anything interesting while I was slaving away over a hot oven?"
Alex scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand, even as a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, you know. Just the usual teatime drama. Friendship bracelets were offered, feelings were hurt. Milk was spilled, tears were shed. The whole shebang."
"I see," he said mildly. "Sounds like we could all use a little something sweet to chase the sour away, hmm? Elijah, baby boy, why don't you come help Daddy serve up these treats. Gotta put those tiny hands to good use."
Elijah lit up like a Christmas tree. Scampered over to Lance with an excited little wriggle, already making grabby hands for the platter.
"I can has cookie now?" He whispered, eyes round and pleading. The very picture of innocence, cranked up to eleven.
Lance chuckled, shifting the tray out of reach with a wink. "On second thought, they need to cool down a bit. Let's get everybody settled in the meantime.”
Elijah heaved a put-upon sigh, but nodded gamely. He looked about two seconds from a full-on pout, bottom lip already jutting precariously. He then let his Daddy steer him over to the table with a hand at the small of his back, already chattering a mile a minute about his plans for enjoying them with some milk.