62: It wont happen again

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"You are an idiot, Scott Richard,"
Scott looked up at the sound of Mitch's voice; his boyfriend sighing when he saw the man sitting with his head in his hands on the bench inside of the cell. Scott, now sporting an ice pack on his fist, stood and met Mitch at the door, thanking the officer when he let him out.
"Mitchie-"
"What the fuck did you do?" Mitch asked, shoving Scott back as he adjusted the bag on his arm. "Why did I- only three hours into my first evening to myself in weeks- get a call from your campus police saying my boyfriend punched his professor in the face?! Your elderly professor, nonetheless!"
Scott sighed, "he's not elderly; he's like, thirty,"
"Scott Richard if you don't tell me what the fuck you did, I'm leaving you here."
That's when the officer spoke up, a nervous expression flashing across his face. "A-actually, we cant keep anyone over night,"
Mitch shot him daggers, "do not test me," he snapped, the officer going wide eyed as he stepped back. "What did you do, Scott?"
"I— May have punched my professor for bullying me,"
"For b- what?!" Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are in law school, Scott. You punched a lawyer in the face. I feel like I don't need to explain how fucking stupid you are for doing that. You're lucky he's not pressing charges,"
"He's not pressing charges because he's a thirty year old man making fun of a twenty-one year old for being a father of two." Mitch stopped, his expression softening at Scott words. "He's not pressing charges, because he showed up to class drunk,"
"You punched a drunk lawyer in the face for bullying our children?"
Scott nodded proudly. "And I'd do it again; just maybe without my rings on, because ow," he rubbed his fingers and reached for his backpack off of the ledge the police officers had set his things he reached inside and grabbed his jewelry once more; holding up a promise ring Mitch had given him years before. "Good luck charm," he grinned, earning an eyeroll from Mitch as the brunette signed Scott's release papers.
Once they sat in Mitch's car again, the blonde pouted, causing Mitch to look over. "Yes?"
"Are you mad at me?"
"I'm not happy,"
"Is that a yes to you being mad?" When Mitch didn't respond, Scott's bottom lip jutted out in a way that made him look so much like their son; his blue eyes wide and full of hope. "Miiiiitch,"
"I'm not mad at you, Scott. I'm just disappointed,"
"That's so much worse than being mad," Scott whined. "Can you be mad instead? Mad Mitch is a hell of a lot less scary than Disappointed Mitch is."
Mitch shook his head, "I'm serious, Scott. What would you have done if the actual cops arrested you? Or if you get sued by someone who obviously has more money and more power than you do?"
"Uhm.. don't know. Thankfully that is not happening; I'm just not allowed back on campus for a week and then I'm good,"
"Scott."
"This is a blessing in disguise, babe!" He gushed, reaching for his phone out of his backpack. "I get to spend more time with my family, first off! How was the gym?" He looked over, "god, your butt looks so good in those leggings,"
"You're so annoying. If Wesley turns out to be anything like you, I think we're all screwed,"
"Or incredibly lucky," Scott smirked, causing Mitch to scoff and shove his leg. "What's wrong? You usually love my sense of humor,"
Mitch sat back in his seat, stopping the car at a red light and glancing towards Scott. "I'm sorry, I guess I just panicked. No more punching people, got it?"
Scott nodded, his hand on Mitch's leg, "Yes ma'am; no more punching people. Scale of one to ten, how disappointed are you? Honest,"
Mitch glanced over, his eyes darting from the highway before them to the blonde next to him. When Scott looked over, Mitch gave him a pressed smile. "Five."
"Five is good," Scott nodded. "I can handle five."
"If it happens again, that five is going up to a thirty and you're sleeping on the couch. It better not happen again,"
"Don't worry, Mitchie," Scott gave him a bright smile, causing Mitch to look over again. "It won't happen again. I promise."

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