A/N: this fic is dedicated to burnmedown, because it was a conversation with her that inspired this. please go check out her stories, and show them some love- they are absolutely fantastic and I highly recommend.

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

In all honesty, the list was just supposed to be a stupid joke. Sonny overheard Jason giving Clay a stern lecture about how no, you're not allowed to half-assedly stitch yourself up after a mission, that's what we have Trent for. He snickered, and suggested that they start a list of rules specially for Clay, since the kid was a dumbass sometimes. It had drawn a few laughs from the other guys, and one glare from Clay, enough to encourage him to make it a reality.

The next work day, Clay came in to see a white sheet of paper pinned to his cage, boldly titled THE "CLAY LIST" AKA SHIT THE KID AIN'T ALLOWED TO DO. The first item on the list was about not stitching himself up, but allowing an actual medical professional to take care of it. He groaned and rolled his eyes, much to the amusement of the other guys.

"Yeah, you're hilarious Sonny," he assured the other man, and reached up to rip the paper off. Jason eyed this exchange, and fought back a smile before he too incurred Clay's wrath. The longer he considered it though, the more of a good idea it seemed. Hmm, so Sonny could have good ideas outside of the field, who knew.

"No, Clay. Leave it," Jason ordered. Clay whirled around to face him with accusatory eyes.

"You're not going to buy into this bullshit, are you?"

"You could use a leash, kid," Jason shrugged. Laughter erupted from all the guys as Clay flounced into his cage, muttering curses all the way. He was a grown man, nearly 30 years old, and a fucking Navy SEAL to boot. There were many things he needed, and a leash was not one of them. Unfortunately, what Jason said, went, and the best he could hope for was that the amusement would run out of this stupid idea before long.

Xxxx

A week later, the list had a new addition, inscribed by none other than Ray himself. They'd been on a mission in Mongolia of all places, retrieving Americans captured on vacation. Clay had predictably pulled a stupid stunt in that he'd single-handedly decided to allow the enemy to capture him, in order that the team might get to exfil safely. After being rescued, Jason had blistered Clay's ears pretty good for that, but Ray decided to take it a step further. Clay had simply rolled his eyes when he saw no allowing yourself to be captured as a decoy a few days later.

Xxx

Trent of all people furthered the list three weeks after the previous incident. Clay was currently in hospital, having landed there after ignoring a bad case of the flu long enough for it to turn to pneumonia. Not only had he not mentioned having the flu but he'd gone out of his way to actively hide it, including using makeup left by Stella to cover up his bruised under-eye. The team discovered the truth when Clay passed out in his cage, overtaken by malnutrition and dehydration.

He loved Clay like a brother, but hell if he didn't want to murder the kid sometimes. Spenser couldn't ever go with the flow, nope that was too easy for him. In his determined goal to be better than his father, he decided to be the biggest pain in the ass Bravo had ever seen. Mission accomplished, as Trent regularly had the urge to drink himself to oblivion now.

Alone in the cages, Trent forced himself to breathe deeply to avoid breaking something out of pure anger and frustration. It wasn't working, an itch dancing through his fingers to smash something to smithereens. In a quest for something that would give him satisfaction of breaking it without drawing attention, his eyes alighted on a sheet of white paper lying innocently against black bars. With a smirk, he dug out a pen and walked over, his rage bleeding out with every word.

no hiding illness or injury

no using makeup to cover said illness or injury

Xxxx

"Y'know Jace, I've been thinking," Ray began. They were on the plane after a successful mission, and everyone was feeling a little loose.

"That's dangerous," Jason joked.

"We have the list of rules for Clay, but what we gonna do to enforce them?"

Jason let this thought roll around in his brain, considered possible solutions.

"He's our kid, why not ground him?"

"Cause he's a Navy SEAL? And almost 30 years old?"

"He belongs to us. Until the day that he runs for another team- which is the day hell freezes over, far as I'm concerned- he's ours to do with as we wish."

"How is the grounding thing gonna work?" Ray wondered, sipping from his beer.

"We take his car keys, pick him up and drop him off as far as work goes. Or he stays with one of us."

"He ain't gonna like it," Ray advised, after a beat of thoughtful consideration.

"He don't have to, but he does have to learn there will be consequences to not following rules."

Xxxx

"And then you shoulda seen the look on Trent's face!" Ray cackled, tipping his head back. The guys all laughed even though the story was confusing and the punchline poorly delivered, but they were too smashed to even notice. Sonny chuckled along with the rest, and shoved himself to his feet with a beer in hand, stumbling slightly over to the bar to order another round. Clay stood leaning against the bar, texting furiously. Huh, Sonny hadn't even noticed him get up.

He observed Clay for a moment, saw the red flush of his cheeks and the slight grin that upturned his lips.

"Who's got you grinning like a possum eating a sweet potato?" Sonny taunted, sipping from his drink. Clay glanced up at him and shook his head.

"Ah, no one."

"The redness in your cheeks says otherwise. C'mon, blondie. Spill."

"Really, it's no one."

A memory struggled against the haze of alcohol, something he should remember. With a mighty heave, it broke through and Sonny recalled the last time he'd seen Clay like this. When he first started dating Ste-oh no. Oh. Hell. No.

"Tell me right now who you're texting," Sonny ordered, straightening his spine.

"Sonny, it's none of your business who I'm-"

"Is it her?"

Clay didn't outright confirm it, but the way his eyes went shifty and he refused to meet Sonny's gaze told the whole story.

"Clay. No. She's bad news, brother. I'm telling you."

"Sonny, it's not like we're rushing to get married. We're just seeing where this goes."

"No, you're not 'seeing where it goes.' You know why? Cause it's me who's gonna get a call at 3am to come pick your ass up from the local bar. No. Let her go."

Clay's fingers darted over his phone screen, before he locked and tucked it away.

"It's not on the list, and you can't stop me," Clay sassed, taking out his wallet. Sonny turned away, and went back to the guys' table. From his vantage point, Clay couldn't see exactly what Sonny was up to, but didn't give it much thought, more concerned with the tail he had waiting. He had to give her that much, she'd always known how to love him right.

Sonny hurried back, and slapped a napkin on the bar in front of Clay.

THE CLAY LIST- MOBILE VERSION

no drunkenly sleeping with stella

in fact, no sleeping or interacting with stella at all

Clay shook his head, rolled his eyes, and shoved away the napkin.

"Sonny, I was raised better than to leave a lady waiting. Sorry brother, gotta go."

Jason appeared then, and wrestled Clay into a headlock, leaving him pretty well pinned. Sonny patted Clay down quick, and confiscated his phone and keys. Clay struggled, but couldn't break the older man's hold.

"You'll go home with Sonny tonight, and then he can drive you back to your car in the morning," Jason informed him, releasing him from the headlock.

Clay groaned, and sent Jason a nasty glare. He wished intensely for a time machine, in order to find a time when he didn't have five mother hens watching his every move. That was the nice thing about Green Team, in that no one really gave a fuck what he did off-duty, as long as he didn't end up dead, injured, or in jail. He'd assumed things might be the same way with Bravo, but no he got stuck with the ridiculously overprotective team. Just his luck.

Xxxx

A groan wanted to slip from his lips as he stumbled into the cages, but he mostly managed to repress it. Once he really got moving, he'd feel better, he assured himself. This was just leftover stiffness from sleeping. The doctor at the ER had even said that he wasn't that seriously injured, just needed a couple days' rest. Since he had no intention of telling the others about his accident last night, he defined their training days as "rest", considering they weren't going as hard as compared to a mission.

Ray eyed Clay warily from across the room, not missing the uneasy gait of his youngest teammate. It was not out of the realm of possibility for him to be hurting from training yesterday, but something within Ray urged him to investigate further.

"You doing alright Clay?" He inquired, eyes still on the boots he was strapping on.

"Doin' great," Clay replied, working hard to put a note of cheerfulness in his voice.

"Really? Moving kinda stiff," he jerked his chin at the younger man.

"Just slept wrong."

"I'm sure," Ray privately rolled his eyes. Heaven forbid the youngest man ever admit that something was wrong, noooo that was too good for Bravo's youngest.

By then, the boys had started to come in, the sound of their conversations drowning out Ray and Clay's. The older man had hoped to find a moment to share his concerns with Jason, but seeing as Jason was locked in pretty intensely with Sonny, Ray knew it would have to wait. He just hoped that the others would pick up on the same cues he had.

Sure enough, it didn't take long for the others to suss out a problem with Clay, and for them to start giving him their own searching looks. He noticed, but managed to avoid conversation about it by refusing to meet anyone's gaze. That system worked pretty well until he went to get dressed.

"You ain't gonna change your shirt?" Jason asked him. Clay glanced up, and flashed a bright smile.

"Naw, came dressed in my workout shirt today."

"That's unusual. You never do that, because almost all your workout shirts are here."

"Change in routine once in a while is good for you, you know…," Clay's voice trailed off uncertainly, a note of nervousness heightening his pitch.

"No, I don't know. Take off your shirt Clay," Jason ordered.

"What the hell Jason? I ain't fuckin' taking off my shirt for your viewing pleasure," Clay crossed his arms defiantly.

"Clay. You are moving stiff today, having trouble lifting your arms above your head, and don't think I didn't see you pop six ibuprofen. Answer me honestly. Are you injured right now?"

Clay rolled his head from side-to-side.

"It depends on what your definition of 'injured' is."

Several of the guys let out curses, and Jason pinched his forehead between his fingers, massaging slightly to ease the headache that had suddenly formed there.

"Clay. What is the third rule on the list in your cage?"

"No hiding illness or injury," Clay recited dutifully.

"Mmhm. And what do you call not telling us when you're injured?"

"I didn't hide it, exactly. I went to the hospital last night and they said I was fine," Clay informed him.

"Okay, what happened last night?"

Clay groaned internally, cause he knew telling them what had happened would get him grounded for a year. He resigned himself to the loss of freedom and explained the whole story: he went out for a few drinks, was walking back to his car when a distracted driver kinda clipped him. At the hospital, they'd diagnosed him with a couple of cracked ribs and a concussion, and told him to take it easy for a couple days. He'd assured them he would, took his prescription for painkillers, and went home.

By the time he was finished, Trent's face had gone several shades of purple, while Jason look pissed enough to kill him where he stood. Ray just appeared distinctly, deeply unimpressed, and Sonny was rolling his eyes at his teammate's stupidity. Brock simply shook his head, not surprised by this latest stunt.

At the end of it, Jason deemed him grounded for an indeterminate amount of time, and got him set up in a conference room doing paperwork, knowing there was little that Clay hated more than paperwork. Clay also had to write an essay on the dangers of hiding concussions, and not treating injuries properly. Lastly, although it wasn't planned, the guys had all slapped Clay across the back of the head for his stunt, ignoring protestations about his concussion.

Clay was a little shocked when two weeks later, no new rule had been added to the list. When asked, Jason simply smiled and handed Clay a pen, saying he'd be the one to inscribe the new addition, to make sure this one stuck.

He'd never admit it, but these sort of things kinda warmed his heart a little, because he knew it was their way of showing that they cared.

Still didn't mean he agreed with the fucking list.