That Man!

“That man!” Bryce murmured under his breath, his frustration and mild annoyance being obvious to his own ears.  Four years as a couple and three of those years with them living together, and he still hadn’t been able to break Roddy’s habit of leaving his things…well, everywhere!

Roddy liked a neat living area and cleanliness as much as Bryce did, but Roddy did not like to clean anything…ever.  It was an ongoing source of frustration for Bryce, and the cause of more than a few ‘discussions’ in their house.

That day Bryce had needed to work late to help unload a truck since two workers had called in sick; and now, upon finally arriving home, he was greeted with a very unpleasant sight. He glared with distaste at his and Roddy’s living room.  Just two hours later than he normally would have been home, and in that time Roddy had managed an impressive mess.  His partner’s coat was lying across the top of a chair instead of in the hall closet.  One shoe was under the coffee table while its match had been left on the sofa.  Roddy’s gym bag, half unzipped and with the scent of sweaty clothes emanating from it, had been left on top of the coffee table.  A dumbbell, for some unknown reason, was on top of the video cabinet that housed their movie collection; and two empty glasses lay forgotten on the floor.

There was no sign of Roddy in the house, which meant that he was probably in the backyard playing with their bulldog, Dozer.  As if to confirm that thought, Bryce heard the deep bark of their dog from the direction of the back porch.  He sighed and chose to see what other disasters could be found in their house before confronting his lover.

The kitchen he dreaded, but he approached with resolve.  Having mentally prepared himself, he wasn’t surprised at the sight that greeted him, although he still grimaced with distaste.  Dirty dishes were on the stove, sink and table, and the orange juice container—still half full—had been left out.  Bryce growled a little under his breath when he saw the oven had been left on.  A quick look inside proved there was nothing in the appliance and he quickly shut it off.

Checking the rest of the house showed messes in their bedroom and bathroom as well.  Roddy couldn’t seem to exit a room without leaving evidence behind that he’d been there.  Bryce couldn’t help chuckling at that thought.  His lover would be the worst criminal ever.  He’d leave enough proof he’d been at a crime scene to be picked up by the cops in ten minutes.

A noise distracted him from his thoughts and he looked toward the bedroom’s open door to see their cat, a long-haired Siamese named Gracie, wander inside.  She seemed to share Bryce’s distaste for the cluttered area.  He nodded at her when her head briefly looked toward him. 

“I know, Gracie.  Messes like this aren’t fit for animals, much less humans.  What shall we do about it?”

With a flick of her tail and a bored expression, the feline strolled from the room.  Bryce followed her, and then left her washing her tail in the hallway while he went to greet his partner.

Just like he’d suspected, Bryce found Roddy in their backyard, throwing a ball for Dozer, who chased after it with enthusiasm and no grace whatsoever.  Despite his annoyance over the messes in the house, Bryce allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the scene of man and dog playing together.

He was a silent observer, but eventually Roddy’s peripheral vision caught sight of him and a smile lit his face.

“Hey!  You’re home!” he greeted as he started to jog over.  Dozer followed at a loping run, his tongue hanging out and what looked like a doggy smile on his face. 

A greeting like that would make anyone smile, and some of Bryce’s irritation faded away as he kissed his lover with pleasure, and then spared a hand to affectionately rub Dozer’s head.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” he commented.

Roddy grinned.  “The pooch loves to play ball, and we both said he needs the exercise.”

Bryce nodded as he glanced at the rather tubby dog.  “Good for you both then,” he approved.

There was pleasure in Roddy’s eyes with that praise.  “Want to play with us?  There’s still an hour of light left.”

Bryce shook his head.  “As appealing as that is, I’ve gotten more than my share of exercise today after unloading that truck.  I’d just like some dinner and rest right now.”

“Want to watch a movie with me?” Roddy suggested.  “There are plenty of leftovers in the fridge, so there’s no reason to cook.”

“Leftovers sound perfect, and I hadn’t planned on cooking, although neither did I plan to spend my evening making our house livable again.  You’ve apparently been very busy not picking up your things this evening, my lad.”

Roddy’s smile faded.  “What didn’t I put away?”

Bryce couldn’t help it.  He laughed.  “It would be shorter to list what you did put away, and from the looks of it, I’d say that was nothing.”  He reached for Roddy’s hand and gripped it firmly.  “Come inside and see if you don’t notice what I’m talking about.”

Bryce felt the reluctance in Roddy’s grip as the bigger man allowed himself to be brought inside.  Their first stop was the kitchen, and Bryce directed his partner’s attention to the dirty dishes.  “See anything that shouldn’t be there?”

“I was going to do the dishes later…” Roddy tried to reason.

“Uh-huh,” Bryce murmured, knowing that the thought probably did cross Roddy’s mind, but also knowing that it was unlikely his lover would have actually followed through with that idea.  “Did you also plan to turn the oven off later?”

Roddy looked anxiously toward the appliance.  Bryce squeezed his hand.  “I already turned it off.  Why did you even have it on?  I see you used the stove, but there’s no evidence that anything needed to be in the oven.”

Roddy squirmed, briefly trying to pull his hand from Bryce’s grip, but gave up quickly when he realized his partner had no intention of letting him go.  “I was going to put a frozen pizza inside and was preheating it, but I changed my mind.  I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

“I know that,” Bryce acknowledged, but Roddy knew that acknowledgment didn’t mean the mistake was going to be brushed aside just yet.

The two made their way to the living room where Bryce waited patiently for Roddy to pick out what was out of place.

“My shoes?” the larger man said tentatively, his almost forlorn voice seeming mismatched with his muscular body.

“Mmhmm,” Bryce murmured with a nod.  “What else?”

Roddy’s eyes took in the room and Bryce couldn’t help wondering as he often did if Roddy really needed those couple minutes to figure out what should have been put away, or if he was just that reluctant to mention what he saw.

“The dumbbell shouldn’t be there,” Roddy finally acknowledged, a slight blush staining his cheeks.  “And the cups should be in the kitchen.”

“Yes, and did you think that bag of gym clothes might be able to grow some feet and make it to the washing machine?”

Bryce’s question was said with gentle teasing, not sarcasm.  Roddy’s lips curled up in a rueful smile and his blush deepened.  “I probably should have helped them get there.”

Bryce chuckled.  “Yes, that would have been appreciated, I’m sure.”  He squeezed Roddy’s hand again.  “Time to head upstairs.”

Roddy groaned.  “There too?”

“There too,” Bryce confirmed.

The messes in the bedroom and bathroom were gently but pointedly shown to Bryce’s recalcitrant partner before the larger man was directed to an all too familiar corner of their bedroom.

“All right, my lad,” Bryce stated as Roddy was situated into the corner.  A light tap to his brat’s firm backside stopped the initial squirming Roddy tended to do when made to stand there.  “You’re going to stand there where you can’t make a mess while I write down your chores for this evening to make this place habitable again.”

Roddy groaned and Bryce gave him another, slightly firmer, tap. 

“Sorry sir,” his man’s forlorn voice said in a whisper.

Bryce gave a comforting squeeze to one of Roddy’s broad shoulders, knowing his partner had understood the warning in the mild swat.  He also knew that Roddy was hoping complacent behavior would help him avoid any further discipline that night.  Bryce hadn’t quite decided on that yet though.  He took a notebook and pen from the side table by their bed and sat against the headboard as he started making the list. 

He knew why Roddy had groaned at the thought of a list of chores.  It was because he knew that Bryce would have tasks on it that he’d probably not even think of doing.  Roddy’s idea of cleaning was either not to clean and just live around the mess, or hide things so the area appeared cleaner than it was.  Neither was acceptable to Bryce.

However, Bryce knew his personal motivation for making a chore list was not to punish Roddy for his rather sloppy ways, but to help him overcome them.  He also made the list because he understood that Roddy tended to need the clear guidelines.  Just being told to clean up his mess would mean having a partner haphazardly trying to put things away or clean the untidiness halfheartedly, and more than likely missing a lot in the effort and having to do it over with Bryce’s supervision.  A list for him was direct, told him exactly what needed to be done, and Bryce knew that his lover was honest enough that he wouldn’t skip any of the assigned tasks.

Fifteen minutes later, Bryce silently read through the assignments he’d written down.

KITCHEN:
*Put OJ away
*Wash all dirty dishes.  (None are left to soak, my lad.)
*Wipe down counters, table and stove top.
*Sweep the floor (dirt goes in the trash, not swept outside)
*Turn oven on and off three times—just for practice (Roll your eyes while you do this because I know you’re doing it right now anyway)
LIVING ROOM:
*Collect glasses and any other dishes, take to kitchen, and wash them
*Dumbbell goes back to the garage workout room (Note: put ON the proper rack, please.  On the floor in the garage does not equal ‘put away’)
*Coat and shoes put away in hall closet
*Gym clothes AND gym bag go to the laundry room and immediately get put in the washing machine (Please remember detergent and to turn it on….I know you!)
*Check sports center for the score of whatever game you’re sure to be thinking about.  Turn tv off immediately after finding out score, please.

BEDROOM:
*Put away clean clothes that were tossed about.  If dirty, put in hamper.
*Remake the bed.
*Find the remote for the bedroom tv. (HINT: It’s not on the sidetable where it should be)
*Spend the time cleaning thinking about what I’m going to do to you in that bed tonight….

BATHROOM:
*Hang wet towels up neatly, please.
*Rinse out tub
*Put away all items left on the counter.  (Note: handsoap and toothbrush holder should be only things remaining)
*Come find me when everything is done. (I love you.)

With a nod to himself, Bryce approved the list.  He knew it sounded very exacting, but the direct instructions would help Roddy get everything done that much quicker, and Bryce planned to have the remainder of the night after they dealt with Roddy’s sloppy ways much more pleasant.

“Come here, my lad,” he called to his partner.  Both relief and reluctance brought the big man to his side.  Bryce handed the paper over.  “Start in the kitchen and work through one thing at a time.  And chin up,” he ordered, following the words up with a quick kiss to his brat’s lips.  “It won’t take as long as you think.”

Roddy accepted the kiss, but frowned at the paper as he saw the chores seemed to fill an entire page.  “Will you help me?” he begged.

“Did I help make the mess?”

“No, but Bryyyccceee…” he started to whine, but stopped as soon as he met Bryce’s gaze.  One raised eyebrow had him dropping his argument.  Slow feet took him out of the room and to the kitchen as his first stop.

In the meantime, Bryce changed out of his work clothes, pulled on some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, and grabbed a book to take outside and read on the porch.  His stomach growled at him as he headed down the stairs, reminding him that supper still hadn’t been eaten, but he told himself to wait.  Roddy didn’t need the distraction of him rummaging in the kitchen, and he wanted to wait for his partner to be able to be with him.

He settled on the back porch with a historical novel that had been recommended to him, but spent the first few minutes listening with mild amusement to the sounds coming from the kitchen.  He’d purposefully had Roddy start there because his partner hated any type of kitchen cleaning more than almost anything else.  Bryce figured getting it done first was better than dreading it while working in the other rooms.  Dishes clanked as they were washed and Bryce heard repeated mutters from his partner as things were set to right.  After about ten minutes he heard the sound of Roddy’s deep chuckle and knew his partner had probably just read the line about turning the stove on and off.  He smiled to himself as his mind recalled exactly how Roddy’s face looked when he rolled his eyes.

Eventually the sounds dwindled away and Bryce knew Roddy had started working in the living room.  By his estimate, it would be about another half hour before the assigned tasks were completed.  In the meantime, he let himself get absorbed into his book.

Awhile later the shuffling of nervous feet garnered his attention.  Roddy stood at the door that led from their kitchen to the porch and silently looked at him.  Bryce marked his place and stood up.  “Done?”

“Yes sir,” Roddy acknowledged.  His large frame filled the doorway, but the manly body didn’t disguise the anxious brat underneath.

Bryce nodded once and moved to come inside.  Roddy stepped back to let him in, his eyes looking more at the floor than at him.  Bryce knew that body language.  It fairly screamed, ‘I’m feeling unsure, but I don’t really want what I know I need’. 

Bryce knew what to do, and without fanfare he moved to a familiar drawer and withdrew the wooden pancake spatula that had never actually been used for pancakes.

Roddy’s hands flew behind him to cover his bottom.  “Noooo!” he whined.

It was a customary reaction that Bryce was expecting.  His lover—big, muscled man that he was—had a surprisingly low pain tolerance.

No, Bryce corrected that thought.  Roddy’s pain tolerance for anything involving exercise was actually quite high.  It was anything outside of that realm that the big guy was surprisingly sensitive over.  He feared shots and vaccinations, howled over stubbed toes, and was a very big baby when he was sick.  He had also never gotten through even the mildest of spankings without at least a few tears. 

With this knowledge in his head, Bryce had no intention of being harsh with his lover. He simply made a motion for Roddy to move his hands, and then took a grip on Roddy’s left bicep.  He turned the whimpering man sideways and lifted the spatula. 

“Four messy rooms.  Four spanks,” he declared. 

He made the swats fast, and Roddy arched his back as he let out a loud yelp with each smack despite having the protection of his pants.  It lasted all of three seconds, but as expected, the large man’s eyelashes were spiked with tears when Bryce turned him so they could face each other.

“All done, my man.  Ok?”

Bryce saw the use of the endearment ‘my man’ sink into Roddy’s mind and the tenseness in his lover’s shoulders slipped away.  The two of them knew that Bryce used “my lad” as both a term of affection and a way to address Roddy when he was falling into the ‘brat zone’—as he termed it. 

“My man” had a different essence behind it.  It was meant to convey a reminder that Bryce loved him and they had chosen each other; and also to express to Roddy that despite Bryce being the authoritarian in their home, they were equals in their relationship.  Bryce needed that assurance, particularly after discipline.

“I’m ok,” he sniffed out, and then leaned into Bryce for a hug.

Bryce held him tightly, his arms feeling both the strength and submission in Roddy’s body.  “Good man,” he praised.

His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and Roddy pulled back enough to give him a questioning look.  “Didn’t you eat?”

Bryce shook his head.  “I wanted to wait for you.  I know you ate before I got home, but I’d like your company while I have my dinner.”

Roddy wiped at his eyes and glanced to the living room.  “Want to watch a movie like we talked about earlier?” he questioned hopefully.

Bryce nodded.  “Pick one out while I heat some leftovers.”

Roddy shook his head.  “Your turn to pick.  I’ll get a plate together for you.”

Bryce agreed to that, but tipped his head up to kiss his lover first.  Roddy readily accepted the offer, his normal happy demeanor quickly reasserting itself.  He turned to the fridge, but then glanced warily back at Bryce. 

“You’re gonna pick a movie, not a documentary thing, right?”

Bryce laughed out loud.  His lover knew him too well and he had been contemplating a documentary he’d been wanting to see.  “Fine, I promise you a movie, my lad.”

Roddy’s face broke into a broad smile and there was an added bounce to his step as he started to gather up leftovers. 

Bryce strolled into the family room and quickly selected a James Bond movie that he knew they’d both enjoy.

That man, he thought affectionately as he joined Gracie on the couch and waited for his dinner and his lover.