Work Text:
The office buzzed with the usual end-of-week stress—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, voices bouncing off the walls as deadlines loomed. Jamie sat at his desk, gripping his pen so tightly his knuckles turned white. The deadline was closing in, and nothing was going right. His sources weren’t answering their phones, his research wasn’t lining up, and worst of all? He could feel the pressure building in his chest, like a tightly wound coil ready to snap.
And then—
A coworker walked past, muttering something under their breath. Jamie barely caught it—something about the deadline, about how he should have worked faster.
That was it. Jamie snapped.
“Oh, would you just shut up?” he snapped sharply, slamming his hand down on his desk.
The room went quiet. Mason, sitting at his own desk across the way, immediately looked up. Jamie’s face was flushed, his breathing heavy, his frustration practically rolling off him in waves.
Mason stood, his voice calm but firm. “Jamie. My office. Now.”
Jamie’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling quickly. But he didn’t argue. He knew better. He shoved his chair back and stormed into Mason’s office, arms crossed tight over his chest. Mason followed, shutting the door behind them. Jamie stood there, still vibrating with frustration, refusing to look at him.
Mason sighed. “You know what’s coming.”
Jamie huffed.
Mason pointed to the corner of the office.
“Go stand over there. Now.”
Jamie’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What?”
Mason’s voice didn’t waver. “You heard me.”
Jamie’s mouth opened, then closed. His ears turned pink as his gaze flicked toward the door. “But that’s—”
“Not up for debate.”
Jamie let out a long sigh, clearly embarrassed but turned anyway, walking to the corner. He stood there, arms still crossed tightly, his entire body tense. Mason sat down at his desk, watching the clock. A few minutes passed. Jamie fidgeted. His foot tapped softly against the floor, his fingers clenched and unclenched against his arms.
Mason watched him closely. He was still frustrated—but he wasn’t fighting it. Then the door opened.
Peter stepped in, taking one glance at the scene in front of him—Jamie in the corner, clearly pouting but subdued—and raised an eyebrow.
“What’s going on here?” Peter asked, smirking.
Mason leaned back in his chair. “Deadline stress. He snapped at someone.”
Peter crossed his arms, watching Jamie for a long moment.
Jamie was still fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he wasn’t arguing.
Peter tilted his head, amused. “You know… I think this is working.”
Mason smirked. “Yeah. I think so, too.”
Jamie groaned. “I can hear you, you know.”
Peter chuckled. “Good.”
Jamie huffed. But the tension in his shoulders was already fading.
Five minutes later, Mason checked the clock and stood. “Alright, Jamie. Come here.” Jamie turned immediately, his face red, but his breathing was steady now.
Mason could see it. The time-out had helped. Jamie walked over, still looking embarrassed but controlled.
Mason nodded. “You ready to listen?”
Jamie sighed. But he nodded.
Peter smirked. “Guess we found a new trick, huh?”
Mason chuckled. “Looks like it.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. You guys are the worst.” Peter and Mason just grinned. Because, yeah—Jamie would be fine. Peter leaned against Mason’s desk, arms crossed as he studied Jamie, who now stood in front of them looking properly subdued.
“Alright, kid,” Peter said, voice firm but not unkind. “Tell me what happened.”
Jamie exhaled sharply, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He knew Peter wasn’t going to let this go, but that didn’t mean he liked talking about it.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jamie muttered. “I was frustrated, and someone said something stupid. That’s it.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Mason smirked from his chair. “Let me guess—someone made a comment about your deadline?”
Jamie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Something about how I should have worked faster.”
Peter tilted his head, watching Jamie closely. He wasn’t blind—he knew some of the older staff weren’t exactly nice to Jamie. He was young, talented, and had connections with both Mason and Peter. That alone made some people resent him.
But Peter also knew Jamie. And Jamie wasn’t always great at handling those situations maturely.
Peter sighed. “Jamie. We’ve talked about this.”
Jamie scowled. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Ignore them. Don’t engage.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you snapped loud enough for the whole floor to hear.”
Jamie’s shoulders sank slightly.Mason smirked, leaning back. “So. What do we do about this?”
Jamie hesitated, his mouth tightening just slightly, which immediately put Peter on alert.
He sighed, rubbing his face. “Jamie. I need you to go apologize.”
Jamie’s head snapped up. “What?”
Peter’s expression was unreadable. “You heard me.”
Jamie’s face twisted. “I—Peter, come on! They were the ones being jerks!”
Peter’s voice was calm, steady. “That doesn’t excuse how you handled it.”
Jamie’s hands curled into fists. He hated this part. He knew he had screwed up, but saying sorry—to them? It felt humiliating.
He hesitated, shaking his head. “I don’t—”
Peter raised a brow. “Would you rather I have your coworker come into my office and watch you apologize?” Jamie’s face exploded red.
Mason grinned. Jamie hated apologizing, but he really, really hated when Peter made it worse. Jamie groaned loudly, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fine! I’ll go.”
Peter nodded approvingly. “Good choice.”
Jamie grumbled under his breath as he turned on his heel and stormed off to make his reluctant apology.
Mason chuckled. “Damn. You really know how to get him moving.”
Peter smirked. “He needed a push.”
Then Peter’s face grew serious. He let out a slow breath, looking toward the door where Jamie had disappeared. “Mason, there’s something else.”
Mason raised a brow. “Oh?”
Peter lowered his voice. “I think some of our coworkers know I spank Jamie.”
Mason blinked. “Wait—what?”
Peter nodded. “I’m not blind, Mason. I’ve seen the way some of them look at Jamie after he gets in trouble. The way they smirk. I think some of them figured it out.”
Mason exhaled. “And Jamie?”
Peter sighed. “I don’t think he realizes it yet. Or if he does, he’s pretending he doesn’t.”
Mason frowned slightly. “That could be a problem.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah. We need to keep an eye on it. If anyone tries to humiliate him over it, I won’t stand for it.”
Mason’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Neither will I.”
Peter smirked slightly. “See? You really are the fun uncle.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
Peter chuckled. But deep down, he was already thinking about how to protect Jamie from whatever trouble might come next.
And he knew Mason would do the same.
Mason had spent the better part of the day watching. Not in a creepy way, of course—but in a way that made him notice things.
He had taken Peter’s concerns seriously. If their coworkers knew about Peter and Jamie’s dynamic, it could lead to problems. The last thing Jamie needed was some office gossip making him feel humiliated or uncomfortable.
So Mason paid attention. And what he saw? It wasn’t bad. Jamie’s coworkers liked him.
Sure, some of them teased him—comments about his deadlines, about his sometimes reckless enthusiasm, about how he was clearly Peter’s favorite.
But none of it was cruel. If anything, it was affectionate. He even overheard one of the older editors chuckling to a junior reporter:
"Jamie’s a damn handful, but you gotta love him. Kid works hard—cares about the job, even if he acts like a brat sometimes.”
Mason smirked at that. Because yeah. That was Jamie. What really caught Mason’s attention, though, was how openly everyone referred to Peter as Jamie’s paternal figure.
It wasn’t even a secret. He had heard it at least three times throughout the day.
"Peter is basically his dad."
"Jamie wouldn’t survive here without Peter watching over him."
"Honestly, if Peter retires, Jamie’s gonna have a meltdown."
And even though no one explicitly said anything about punishments… Mason wasn’t stupid.
He could see it in the way some of them exchanged knowing glances when Jamie got too cheeky with Peter. In the way a few of them smirked when Peter gave Jamie that "you’re walking a fine line, kid" look.
Some of them definitely knew. But no one said a damn thing. Because at the end of the day? They all liked Jamie.
He was a good worker, he was passionate about the job, and even when he was a brat, he was their brat. Late in the afternoon, Mason was standing near the coffee machine when one of the senior journalists—Mark, a guy in his fifties with years of newsroom experience—gave him a pointed look.
"So," Mark said, stirring his coffee. "You’ve been watching Jamie like a damn hawk all day."
Mason smirked. "Yeah? And?"
Mark chuckled. "You worried about him? Or are you just making sure he doesn’t set the building on fire?"
Mason huffed a laugh. "A little of both."
Mark grinned. "You know, you’re not fooling anyone."
Mason raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Mark sipped his coffee, looking amused. "We all know Peter is basically his dad."
Mason said nothing, just waiting. Mark tilted his head, grinning. "And you?"
Mason crossed his arms. "What about me?"
Mark chuckled. "You’re the uncle, man. The fun uncle. You act all tough, but we see it."
Mason smirked but didn’t deny it. Mark laughed. "Kid’s lucky, you know. Peter’s got his back, and so do you. He’s got a damn family here."
Mason nodded, his smirk softening.
"Yeah," he said. "He does."
By the time work ended, Mason went straight to Peter’s office. Peter was finishing up some emails when Mason leaned against the doorframe.
Peter looked up. "Well?"
Mason smirked. "Relax, Dad."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Mason—"
Mason stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "They know."
Peter’s expression didn’t change. "How much?"
Mason shrugged. "That you’re his dad, basically. That you keep him in line. But no one’s talking about it like it’s some big scandal."
Peter exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "And Jamie?"
Mason smirked. "They like him, Peter. He gets teased, sure, but it’s the kind of teasing you do when you care about someone."
Peter nodded, relief flickering in his eyes.
Mason grinned. "Oh, and apparently, I’m the uncle."
Peter snorted. "You?"
Mason shrugged. "Yeah. The fun uncle, apparently."
Peter smirked. "Yeah. That tracks."
Mason chuckled, then his expression grew serious. "Bottom line? He’s safe here. And honestly, I think he knows that."
Peter exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good," he said. "That’s all I needed to hear."
Mason grinned. "Told you. Now, let’s get out of here before Jamie realizes we’re talking about him."
Peter chuckled, grabbing his coat. Yeah. Jamie was going to be just fine.