A/N: This fic is dedicated to burnmedown, and was born as a result of our conversations. That's what gave me the idea of Clay having middle-child syndrome, and thus this fic. Go check out their profile, show their amazing stories some love.

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to drop a review and let me know what you thought!

Not a day had passed that Jason regretted drafting Clay. The kid was intelligent, quick-thinking, resourceful, and courageous, and one of the best SEALs Jason had ever worked with. Everyone could see Bravo's youngest was going places, and they all tried to help him mature and grow in their own ways. Ray listened to his ideas, plans, and corrected them; Trent made sure he understands the procedures for each mission, prepping with him until he could recite battle plans in his sleep; Brock explained the process behind training a MWD, and let him help with Cereberus's drills. No one wanted to see him fail.

No one, except Clay himself, seemingly.

They were on a mission in Vietnam, working to apprehend an important figure in the Vietnamese mafia. It had long since been suspected he was planning to expand into the United States; an unexpected funeral allowed them the opportunity to snatch him before that happened. For this mission, they were to travel by boat through the South China Sea, into the Gulf of Tonkin, and enter Vietnam at Halong Bay. From there, they traveled to the nearby city of Lang Son, where the target would be staying for only a day longer. It was now or never.

So far, everything was going swimmingly. They'd encountered virtually no problems, and were set to apprehend the suspect in near-record time. Jason and Ray hid against one warehouse, while Trent, Brock, and Vic crouched against the one opposite. However, at the approach of where intel had pegged their target, things quickly went to shit, due to the two guards strolling along the outside of the only entry point on patrol. Protected in the shadows, the boys hurriedly whispered along the comms, drawing and scrapping plan after plan. Time was running out; simply shooting the guards was out of the question, because the target would then be aware of their presence and who knew if he had explosives in the warehouse.

"I got an idea," Clay suddenly cut in, hidden with Sonny in an alley 200 yards from where Jason and Ray stood. "Watch my gear."

"Clay, don't," Sonny hissed. The slight sounds of a scuffle came over the comms, and Jason frowned with confusion. What the hell was going on? What dumbass idea did Clay have now?

"Bravo Three, status report."

"Bravo Six has divested himself of his gear, weapons included, and is putting himself in the line of sight of the two tangoes in an attempt at distraction."

Jason bit back the curse that wants to slip from his lips.

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, Six," he hissed.

"I tried to stop him Jace. Holy hell, I think it's working, he is drawing them away from the door, c'mon kid just a little farther...okay, execute, execute!"

Fluidly, they moved together as one towards the hulking structure. Ray yanked one door open, with Sonny positioned back to the other. At Ray's nod, he tossed in a flash-bang, illuminating the darkness briefly. Jason led Trent, Brock, and Vic inside, sweeping their guns in a wide arc. Their tango stood at the back hunched over, coughing and choking from the smoke of the grenade. In little time, they had him bound with a bag over his head.

Clay met them at the door, a wide grin on his face.

"Did we get them?" He wondered. Jason studied him for a moment, before stepping forward and laying a stinging slap against the back of the younger man's head.

"Grab your shit, and let's go. You are in so much trouble," he growled. Clay nodded, a bit of a sheepish look on his face.

Xxxx

The plane ride back sucked, if only because the higher-ups were birthing one large collective cow at Clay's stunt. Eric received a dressing-down, which made him cranky enough to do the same to Jason, and Jason in turn to Clay. The other guys felt no sympathy for Clay; what he'd done had been beyond stupid and reckless.

Jason took an hour to calm down, reminding himself that no good could result of making decisions out of anger. After he felt sufficiently mellow, he wandered over to Clay.

"Do you understand why what you did was wrong?"

"I'm not allowed to put myself at risk like that," Clay rolled his eyes. "Even though nothing happened."

"Clay. You were without a radio, or a gun, or a vest. You came incredibly close to coming home in a box, and that is unacceptable. We will not allow you to treat your life so carelessly."

Jason took a deep breath.

"You are grounded for a month. You will rotate staying with various members of the team. You will be picked up and dropped off for work, and you will go nowhere that is not cleared by me first."

At this, Clay's eyes widened to saucers.

"A month? Jason, c'mon. You can't do that."

"Hell I can't. You're Bravo's kid. Them's the breaks."

"Why do I always get grounded, and he doesn't?" Clay whined, with a sharp chin-jerk at Vic. The newest Bravo member glanced up from the file he was perusing with a startled expression.

"One of you left your radio to create a false trail for the Chinese PLA. One of you did not. One of you stripped willingly of all your gear to act as a distraction for a couple of guards. One of you did not."

Clay colored slightly, but his chin remained tipped high, refusing to concede an ounce. Jason wanted to strangle him. Heaven forbid he ever drop his stupid pride, ever fully admit he was in the wrong. Jason could be pig-headed at times as well, but he'd learned through the years that pride wasn't everything, that it wasn't useful if it harmed those around you. The words to express this sentiment to Clay stuck in his throat, and he wasn't 100% sure he wouldn't just end up cussing Clay out. Instead, Jason took a breath, and whirled around, heading for the other side of the plane.

Wearily, Eric hung up the phone, and rubbed at his forehead.

"You talk to hIm?"

"Yeah."

"Grounded?" Eric was not only well-aware of the team's method of dealing with Clay in situations like these, but also fully approved of said methods.

"Oh yeah. A month."

"But you don't think that's enough," Eric offered, sensing Jason's uncertainty.

Jason shook his head, rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

"Ever since we drafted Vic, Clay's been different. He's how he was when we first drafted him, y' know taking more risks, acting more recklessly."

"He's always been a little reckless."

"Yeah, but never to this extent. No, there's something more going on."

Eric considered the other man's words for a moment, and had to agree with Jason's assessment accurate. He began to weigh the pros and cons of siccing either Ray or Sonny on Clay when Jason spoke again.

"Emma wasn't exactly thrilled when we told her she was getting a little brother. She began acting out, having tantrums like when she was two. Then, when Mikey was actually born, she got even worse. She got clingy with me and Alana, started crying and screaming whenever we paid attention to Mikey."

At first, Eric was confused about where Jason was going with his story, but soon caught on.

"You think Clay has a case of middle-child syndrome."

"Big time."

"How did you fix things with Emma?"

"We sat down, explained that just because there was a new baby in the house, didn't mean we loved her any less. Then we would trade off taking the kids, so we both could have time with just that kid. Pretty soon, she calmed down, and everything went back to normal."

Eric raised his eyebrows at Jason. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah I'll talk to him. Maybe delegate to Ray."

Xxxx

"That was a real dumb stunt you pulled," Ray opened with as he sat down next to Clay. Clay rolled his head to the left, glanced at Ray, and then tipped his head back, closing his eyes. Two weeks had passed since they'd returned from Vietnam, and it was Ray's turn to deal with Bravo's kid.

"You gonna try to lecture me too?"

"When you deserve it, yeah,"

"I'm not sorry for what I did, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I didn't expect you to be."

The quiet admission from Ray caught all of the younger man's attention. He opened his eyes and turned his head, staring at his superior dead in the eyes.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Because we needed to complete the mission, and couldn't do it with the guards standing there."

"Hmmm," Ray contemplated this. "No, that's not why you did it."

"Oh really? Well then, please tell me why I did it, if you're so sure."

"You're jealous," Ray laid out. "You're upset because we drafted Vic, and suddenly you ain't the kid anymore. You're in the middle of the pack, and you think that means that suddenly you're expendable or replaceable.. But we're not your parents kiddo, we're not gonna abandon you. You're still our kid, and that's why we still ground you, still yell at you. More importantly though, you're our brother and that will never change, no matter who the hell we draft."

Clay was a bit embarrassed at being dissected so thoroughly, and therefore chose to deal with it by completely dismissing it.

"Yeah sure man."

Ray saw the deflection for what it was, knew that ignoring it was Clay's way of admitting to the truth of it. His words had gotten through, and that was enough, he didn't need anything more.

"Seriously though, you ever pull a stunt like that again, and Jason, myself and Sonny will all seriously thrash you. I'm not joking."

Clay smiled softly.

"Yeah. I know."

As much as he hated being grounded (and didn't even thinking that make him feel sixteen again), he was also warmed by the genuine love and care of his brothers. They could read him like a book sometimes, knowing what he wanted or needed even before he did. This talk had been what he needed, and something wild and desperate within him had settled, reassured by the promise of safety. Soon, he slipped into an easy sleep, dreaming without nightmares.

As every boy's sleep should be.