Ranger - Jericho’s Boys #4 - ch. 6 pt 1 (Patreon)

The Daddy police have gotten me again. Reposting in 2 parts. Unbeta'd/Unedited. Warning for some workplace humor some may find inappropriate. Also, I'm not a lawyer by any stretch of the imagination, so forgive the incorrect annotations and terrible legal puns. Also also this chapter is much lighter compared to the last one, so hopefully, you like it. Seven8 months, 3 weeks, 4 days, and 6 hours since their first night togetherSeven was nobody’s strongest soldier. In fact, he might be the weakest. When Enzo had posed the question about trust all those months ago, Seven had given himself a stern talking to. Don’t expect too much. Stay strong no matter what. Enzo’s question could have just been a hypothetical. What if Seven let his guard down only to find that Enzo hadn’t meant it? Seven had vowed to guard the wall around his heart. He wouldn't let Enzo take a bazooka to it. But Enzo was a lawyer for a reason. He was highly persuasive. He hadn’t come in, guns blazing, attempting to blow up Seven’s defenses. He’d snuck in, dismantling them brick by brick so slowly that Seven didn’t see the holes until it was too late. And it was too late. Because Seven was weak, weak, weak. When he talked about Enzo to his friends, he maintained that the older man was just an annoyance, a thorn in Seven’s side. But, in reality, they had wandered into this gray zone, an area that existed somewhere between ‘just friends’ and ‘more than friends’. And Seven had no idea what to do about it. They’d both been dancing around it for months, so much so that they’d become the firm’s own reality television show. It started with the silly presents. Enzo still left gifts of necessity like headphones, highlighters, and neon color tabs to flag his documents. He still left him a protein shake whenever Seven had to come in for a full day. But now they were left in cute reusable cups with sticky notes that said things like ‘Definitely not poison’ or ‘I didn’t spit in this’. It became a ritual. Each morning, Enzo left the full cup on his desk, and every afternoon, Seven returned it, washed, with a note of his own. ‘Still alive. Assassination attempt 7/10. Try harder’ or ‘All I could taste was your tears’. Seven stopped dreading going to the office and began to find excuses to show up before and after classes and on his days off. Next came the office supplies. Sticky notes that had Criminally Hot emblazoned across the top. An expensive pen labeled ‘definitely not a bribe’. A coffee mug dubbing Seven the World’s Okayest Intern filled to the brim with his favorite candy. A brain shaped stress ball with a card that read, ‘For when you’re tired of using your own’. When Seven had said Enzo could still leave him gifts, he hadn’t expected it to be a near daily occurrence. But six months in and Enzo was still going strong. His gifts had graduated from practical to truly absurd. A small gavel with a fancy tag that said, ‘I object to your indifference’. A tiny rubber duck in a suit labeled ‘Emotional Support Litigator’. Seven’s favorite and most shameful gift was the one he kept in his middle drawer. The one only he and Enzo knew about. He’d bought him an erasable chore chart and a pack of gold stars. Each week, Enzo would sneak in and write new reasons to give Seven his gold stars. This week he’d received stars for looking hot, not killing anyone, not rolling his eyes at Lourdes during the round table meeting, and using hearsay in casual conversation. Maybe Seven should have found it infantilizing, but it really just made him laugh. It made him feel special. Enzo made him feel special. Seven arrived at the office at ten after nine, smiling when he saw the metal tumbler covered in kittens. He huffed out a quiet laugh at the masculine scrawl on the post-it note. Because coffee won’t fix your personality.He bit his lip to hide his smirk, but he knew the whole office watched him. The ‘star intern’ and the  ‘fuckboi litigator’. It was too juicy to ignore. If it had been anyone else, Seven would have been the one doling out the popcorn. But it wasn’t. So he was forced to just roll his eyes and say they were just friends. Because they were. Probably. Seven dropped into his office chair, frowning when he saw a manila file folder on his desk. When he flipped it open, he found a legal document and a pencil. His gaze snagged on the pencil, which had something engraved on it. His face flushed as he read the words. Daddy’s Good Boy. He flicked his gaze upward to find Enzo watching him with a smirk on his face. Seven made a show of taking the pencil and tossing it into his otherwise empty garbage can. Enzo laughed, then opened his drawer, fanning out a dozen more pencils, his brow raising in challenge. Seven rolled his eyes, then ducked his head when he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He made a point of ignoring Enzo while he signed into his computer. The moment he was in, a message appeared.L. Conti: I wouldn’t leave that in the trash. You know the others will fish it out the minute you go to get your coffee. S. Symanski: Good. Then they’ll all know what I have to put up with every day.L. Conti: Fine with me. Let them know how good you are for me. Show them all your gold stars. I bet they’d all agree.S. Symanski: When do I get to cash those in anyway? At this point, you owe me a Mercedes. L. Conti: Name your color, and it’s yours, brat. S. Symanski: The sad part is, I know you’d do it.L. Conti: The sad part is that you won’t let me. S. Symanski: I can’t just quit my job and let you support me. My mother would kill me.L. Conti: Please, your mother loves me. S. Symanski: She won’t love all the money I wasted on school. L. Conti: Poor you. Born to be a sugar baby. Forced to be an attorney. 😭😭😭😭S. Symanski: I’m going to print out this conversation and give it to the HR lady to use as an example in her Workplace Harassment seminar this afternoon. L. Conti: I already did. Look down. Seven frowned, giving the filing in the folder his full attention, then snickering. There were a few lines from their messages the previous day. He’d red-lined them. CASE FILE: Seven Symanski v. Lorenzo Conti (Re: “Just friends”)SUBMITTED TO: The Intern Who Makes Loafers SexyDATE: September 10th*PREPARED BY: Lorenzo Conti, Attorney at Law L. Conti:“Did Grayson make you use Comic Sans for this slide deck, or is this a cry for help? Blink twice if you need assistance.”Line 1 – Exhibit A, Enzo Initiates Contact: Classic “negging” technique used as a thinly veiled excuse to start conversation. ➤ Annotation: Defendant is seeking attention through typographic aggression.S. Symanski:“I’ll stop using Comic Sans when you stop staring at my ass.”Line 2 – Seven Counters: Plaintiff clearly acknowledges the defendant’s ongoing flirtatious behavior.➤ Annotation: Also suggests spatial awareness of the defendant's gaze patterns. Highly sus.L. Conti:“Then be prepared to use Comic Sans forever, brat baby. Your font choices are tragic, but your ass is criminally distracting.”Line 3 – Enzo Doubles Down: Direct flirtation disguised as banter.➤ Annotation: Use of “criminally” = textbook Daddy language. Irrelevant but hot.S. Symanski:“It is, isn’t it. Also: This is why we’re friends. Emphasis on ‘just.’”Line 4 – Seven Attempts to Reinstate Boundaries: The friend zone defense is invoked.➤ Annotation: Weak. Jury may be swayed by consistent texting habits, body language, and smile frequency when reading these messages.Final Summary:This document has been submitted as proof that you’ve been flirting back this whole time, despite protestations of friendship. For the record, the defense would like to add:You laughed at my gifts.You texted me “don’t be cute” last night, which implies acknowledgment of my cuteness.Last week you ate the cookie specifically labeled ‘Not a ‘just friend’ cookie’. You knew what it meant.Respectfully submitted,—Lorenzo Conti, Attorney at Law (still patiently waiting in the friend zone, but with slightly bluer balls)Seven shook his head. The man was a menace. He drank down his protein shake hoping it would cool him off a bit. He was in trouble here. He had no problem hitting pause on Daddy Enzo, overbearing Enzo and foot-in-mouth Enzo. But flirty, adorable, charming Enzo was lethal to Seven’s defenses. His walls were crumbling. But the fear was still there. The fear that once Enzo got what he wanted, he’d realize the challenge was what he’d really craved, not Seven himself. Still, it was getting harder and harder to say no. Seven didn’t want to say no. He wanted to fling himself into Enzo’s arms and end his own tragically long dry spell. Enzo’s balls weren’t the only ones turning blue. It was impossible to look at the man every day and not remember what it felt like lying beneath him. He slid the file folder into his bag, then fished the pencil from the trash and did the same with it. He’d never admit it to a single soul, but he kept every one of the notes Enzo gave him in a box beneath his bed like a twelve year old girl with a crush. When he looked up at Enzo again, he was locked in on his computer screen, his handsome face a mask of concentration, his colorful tattoos in direct conflict with his expensive Canali suit. He’d hung the jacket on the rack beside his desk, then rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. The bastard.  L. Conti: If you don’t stop staring at me, we’re both gonna be brought before HR. S. Symanksi: Then put away those slutty forearms. They’re distracting. How is a man supposed to concentrate? Seven watched Enzo laugh, then make a show of flexing said forearms. S. Symanski: Shameless hussy. He stood, snagging his now empty shake cup, walking to the break room just to calm his racing pulse. He stood at the sink, thoroughly washing the cup, lost in thoughts of the very man he’d gone there to forget. Seven sucked in a shocked breath as heat enveloped him, a steady weight pressing him into the counter. Enzo. Desire zipped through him, his blood igniting as his hips settled right against the curve of Seven’s ass. “What are you doing? We're in public,” Seven managed, bracing himself as Enzo’s solid frame pressed him further over the sink. “Hm?” Enzo asked distractedly, beefy arm reaching up to open the cabinets above Seven’s head. “Oh, just grabbing some coffee. We’re out over there.” Fucking liar. Enzo pretended to rifle through the cabinets above while his other hand snaked around Seven’s waist. His mouth fell open in a silent moan as he shifted, grinding himself against Seven’s ass in a way that had fireworks exploding behind his eyelids and his toes curling in his shoes. “Just grab your coffee already,” Seven said in a heated whisper, even as he let himself melt into the heat of Enzo’s body and the spicy scent of his cologne. “Sorry,” Enzo purred right against his ear. “This box just seems to be fighting me.” “The box isn’t going to be the only thing fighting you, if you don’t get off me, you perv,” Seven said around a soft laugh. Enzo dropped his arms to cage him in, nosing just behind his ear teasingly. “You were the one who brought up my slutty forearms. What did you think would happen? This is on you for being so flirty.” Seven was so caught up in Enzo that he didn’t register the sound of heels on the hardwood floors until it was too late. Seven shoved Enzo away from him unceremoniously, whipping around to see which of their colleagues had caught them. Fucking Drucilla. She floated past them like a ghost, her white dress swinging around her knees like she was some ethereal creature in an ad for luxury perfume. She didn’t even acknowledge them until Seven started to say, “We were just…” He let his words die as she cut her razor sharp gaze in their direction. “I don’t have enough words in the English language to even begin to describe how little I don’t fucking care about your weird awkward mating ritual,” she said in her usual flat affect. “Just keep it in your pants. Nobody wants their lunch with a side of your unwashed genitals.” “What?” Seven managed just as Enzo sputtered, “Unwashed?” “You heard me,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot that was, in fact, not empty at all. Seven eyed Enzo, his mouth forming a hard line. When her cup was full, she turned gracefully, floating back towards the door. When she was almost there, she turned, somehow looking down her nose at them even though they were both taller.“You do realize Lourdes moved the seminar to ten, right?” Seven’s eyes widened as he glanced at the large clock on the wall. “Seriously?” “No, I’m joking,” she said flatly, before rolling her eyes when they stared at her in confusion. “Yes, seriously. You have like fifteen minutes to kill your raging boners. Get it together.” They both looked down at their crotches. When they looked back up, she was gone. Ten minutes later, they were sitting side-by-side in the Blackwood, Thorne & Fairchild auditorium for their annual Workplace Harassment seminar. A woman with a brutal pixie cut and a face like a sour lemon stood before them wearing a khaki-colored suit that made her look like the warden from some ‘80s reform school movie. Seven had a feeling she sucked the joy out of every room she entered. Including this one. After a brief introduction that had Seven’s lids drooping, the lights lowered and a grainy training video began to play behind her. Seven was almost positive that it was shot in 144P by Thomas Edison himself. There was no other explanation for the terrible quality. They clearly hadn’t updated these training videos in at least a decade, which made it impossible to take the scenarios unfolding seriously. On the screen, a man with a receding hairline and a baby blue suit loomed over a woman with a Princess Di haircut and a high-neck floral dress with lace trim everywhere. The man–her supervisor–was  attempting to give her a very awkward shoulder massage. Gross. Seven’s phone vibrated in his lap, just as Enzo flipped his screen down. Seven gave him a hard side-eye, then turned it over, looking around before opening the message. Law Daddy: Imagine leaving your little house on the prairie only to be harassed by this leisure suit wearing loser.Seven snorted, then coughed to muffle it when several people turned to glare at him. Me: You never offered me a neck massage. All I got was a fancy pen and a duck that dresses better than you do.Law Daddy: Nobody dresses better than I do. Besides, I didn’t know I was allowed to touch you.Me: Were you not the one trying to bend me over the break room sink twenty minutes ago. Law Daddy: That was an accident. 😔It’s not my fault your juicy 🍑was in the way of the coffee refill. Me: Juicy? Ew. You know you love this 🍑. Law Daddy: You have no idea. I’ve built a shrine. 🛐It’s in the supply closet. Wanna see it when this is over? Me: The jury’s still out. But I’d be willing to hear arguments in my chambers.Law Daddy: I did like being inside your chamber.Me: 🙄 Nevermind. You don’t deserve to touch me. Law Daddy: Nooooo. Give me another chance. Your ass looks amazing in those pants. Let me worship it. 🙏🏻Me: I’m gonna raise my hand and go show these texts to Matron Mama Morton up there.Law Daddy: ☹️ Wait, did you just make a Chicago reference?Me: God forbid a guy try to add a little class to our flirting.Law Daddy: So you admit it? We’re flirting? Me: I admit nothing. 💅🏽This time it was Enzo who was reprimanded for laughing. He did his best to look contrite as the next scenario started to play, a boss attempting to abuse his position of authority to force his secretary—a woman with comically-large Anime breasts—into letting him ‘have his way with her’. It was kind of depressing. The clothes changed, but the problem never did. Maybe Seven was part of the problem. He couldn’t take this video seriously, even though it was a very serious issue. But Seven also would never abuse his position of power, should he ever have any. He opened his phone once more, far more interested in teasing Enzo then trying to sit through this painful video. Me: If only he’d offered her a contract.Enzo looked at him, practically clutching his pearls, shooting off another rapid fire text.Law Daddy: Wooooooooooooow. Me: 😘That seemed to soothe his ruffled feathers some. Me: Where do they find these actors? This dude is two seconds away from twirling his handlebar mustache and threatening to tie her to a set of train tracks. Enzo laughed softly, shifting his weight so he was leaning into Seven, his arm draped over the arm rest so his fingertips could brush his thigh. Seven couldn’t hide his shuddery breath, already at a low simmer from their encounter in the break room. It had been months since Enzo touched him and now he never wanted him to stop. Me: Are you inappropriately touching me in a workplace harassment seminar?Law Daddy: I prefer to call it giving you a hands-on demonstration. Me: You’re being awfully presumptuous…Daddy.Enzo shifted in his seat again then tried to subtly adjust himself. Law Daddy: Call me Daddy again and I’m going to commit a workplace violation.Seven should have shut it down. He knew he was playing with fire. But he just…didn’t want to. When it came to Enzo, he was weak. Me: You gonna drag me into the supply closet and ask to show me your briefs?Law Daddy: I’m much more interested in your briefs. Namely filing a motion to remove them. Was Enzo implying what he thought he was implying? Me: Motion denied.Enzo made a sound like a disappointed cartoon character, forcing Seven to bite back a smile. Law Daddy: Objection. Counsel is being deliberately combative.Seven gave Enzo a hard once over, then licked his lower lip, before dropping his gaze back to his phone. Me: Counsel is doing no such thing. I can’t grant your motion when the plaintiff has no briefs to remove. Law Daddy: Fucking hell. When this is over please let me plead my case in private. Me: I’m afraid you’re gonna have to file a motion to compel.Seven was now painfully hard in a room full of his colleagues. He’d lost the plot of this little game of theirs. He was going to end up spending his lunch break jerking off in the bathroom. Law Daddy: I’m fully ready to make my submission. Submission. Submissive. How far was Enzo willing to go to prove that he wanted Seven as more than just a sub? Me: I’m afraid I’m only willing to hear oral arguments today.Enzo groaned low, leaning his weight into Seven’s space, but this time it was in a poor attempt to hide his own growing erection. Seven was just happy he wasn’t the only one suffering. Did that make him a bad person?Law Daddy: Defense is willing and eager to submit to plaintiff's demands. I’ve heard my oral arguments are quite…compelling.Seven’s pants were cutting off circulation to his now throbbing erection. Me: I think we’ve exhausted the legal puns. Law Daddy: Are you kidding? I’m just getting started. I haven’t even mentioned a hung jury yet.Me: 🤔If only the rest of the world knew what a dork you are.Seven wasn’t prepared for Enzo to whisper in his ear, “You didn’t think I was a dork when you were raking your nails down my back that night.”Seven had to bite his lip to hold back the moan climbing up this throat. “You sound like a cocky asshole,” Seven whispered back with a smile. “Also, I plead the fifth.” The two were ripped from their bubble when the woman running the seminar said, “I’m going to hand out the quiz now.” “A quiz?!” Seven whispered. “Seriously?” “I hope it’s not graded,” Enzo muttered. “I hope it’s multiple choice or we’re both getting called into HR,” Seven said. Enzo snorted. “Just don’t forget about our meeting in the supply room.” “Yeah, yeah,” Seven said, waving him off to smile at the intern, who turned in their seat to hand him and Enzo their quizzes. The next thirty minutes dripped by like molasses, Seven half hard in his pants while the two of them slowly attempted to drive each other insane with sexy little asides and casually wandering hands. By the time the instructor dismissed them, Seven felt seconds away from exploding. They waited for the auditorium to empty before they dared to stand. As they left, they deliberately bumped shoulders, exchanging heated glances and flirty looks. Seven didn’t even care if it was a bad idea. He had never been so keyed up in his life. The two were practically power-walking down the hallway like an old ladies fitness club, trying to make it to somewhere private before they embarrassed themselves. They were almost home-free when a feminine voice said, “Enzo, a word?” Lourdes. They both froze. Seven made it to a count of five before they both turned to look at her. Lourdes was five-six in six inch stilettos yet she carried herself like she was six-four. She was in her fifties but could have easily passed for someone half her age. She wore her black hair in a slicked back ponytail and a white pant-suit that hugged her curves. The jacket had two cut-outs leaving her bronzed skin on  display from her ribs to her hips. Felix would have rocked that look, no question. It was a total power move. She was a badass. She was terrifying. Enzo looked at Seven longingly, then back to Lourdes. “Sure, what’s up?” Seven almost laughed at the false cheerfulness in his tone. It was so un-Enzo-like that even Lourdes frowned. “I need a moment,” she told him. “And no, it can’t wait.” He shot Seven another longing look, before seeming to catch himself. He cleared his throat and messed with his tie. “Uh, I’ll catch up and then we can…go grab lunch so I can help you with that…school thing.” “Right, sure. My school thing. I’ll see you then,” Seven managed, disappointment dulling his desire like a wet blanket on a fire. They were cursed. Seven moped his way back to his desk. He’d just dropped into his seat when his phone vibrated with a notification. Law Daddy: Five minutes. West wing supply closet.