An Unwanted Surprise (Get well soon, Crone!)
A little ficlet written for Wise_old_crone who is feeling a little under the weather this week. Apologies for any mistakes, not beta'd this and not written for months and months and months...
Title: An Unwanted surprise
Pairing: John/Dean
Summary: Two of the Winchesters receive a surprise they weren't looking for.
Implement: Belt
We need to talk!
Dad
Dean saw the note on the kitchen table and gulped, dropping his keys with a clatter. He mentally ran through a list in his head, trying to work out what he could possibly have done wrong. He groaned, unsure what to expect. The note didn’t sound angry, but with Dad nothing was guaranteed.
Trying not to panic, he wandered over to the sink and poured himself a tall glass of water then backtracked to collect the schoolbag he’d left abandoned by the door. Usually if there was a chance that Dad would kick your ass, it was best to minimise the damage while you had the opportunity to help yourself.
He worked in silence for a couple of hours, leaning back with a pleased sigh when he finally finished his work for the day. Luckily it hadn’t been a night of rigorous studying, for which Dean was grateful. Sam was at the library with a couple of friends so it was quiet in the house, and the sound of birdsong could be heard just outside the window.
Unsure what to do next, he tidied away his books and wandered to the fridge to try and gather enough ingredients to make something for dinner. They had enough to make a decent batch of mac and cheese so Dean set to work on making dinner. He was happily singing along to classic rock when the kitchen door closed sharply. Dean didn’t notice. John Winchester watched him for a moment from the doorway before clearing his throat.
“Deano.”
Dean didn’t look up, too lost in his own world. He looked up in confusion when the radio went silent abruptly. He looked around the room, grimacing when he saw his father leaning against the doorjamb with arms folded.
“Oh,” he smiled weakly, “Hey Dad.”
“Hi, son. Good day?”
“Uh, sure. Um… Was yours okay?”
“It came to pass. Woulda been better if I didn’t get a speeding fine for one Dean Winchester in the post this morning.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “But… Huh?”
“Yup. Apparently one of those fancy cameras they’ve just released caught you doing 70 in a 60 zone on Monday. Funny, cause I swear I didn’t teach you to drive Baby so you could cost me big ass fines or attention from the cops…”
Dean swallowed nervously. Sure, on Monday he may have gone a little over the speed limit, but he’d been running late for curfew and… He ran a hand through his cropped hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sir, I didn’t… I mean… Uh, it’s just… It wasn’t that bad….”
John rolled his eyes. “I see. So you got a hundred bucks sitting about to pay your bill then?”
“Uh…”
“Right. That’s what I thought. You’re lucky I’ve picked up extra shifts recently, kid. I’ll pay your fine but you’ll be earning your keep. You’ll have training at 0530 hours for the next week, don’t expect me to go easy on you. And you can kiss your social life goodbye this weekend, cause you’ll be doing a shitload of chores round this house. But first off, we have a little discussion to have. Get your ass over the table and drop your jeans.”
“What? But… sir! Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” Dean protested, holding his hands up placatingly.
“You’re really asking me that? Wow, I’m impressed. I thought you might have learned better by now. Don’t make me tell you again, Dean. Unless you’d rather Sammy witnessed this....”
Dean shuddered, shaking his head and scrambling towards the table. He managed to unfasten his jeans and shove them to his knees whilst simultaneously managing to bend himself over the table. John nodded in satisfaction, standing up and rolling his shirt sleeves up. He unthreaded his belt from his jeans, folding it over speculatively. At just shy of 17, his son had experienced the belt a handful of times now, so it was a familiar dance they were about to start. He opted to allow his eldest the small relief of his modesty by leaving his boxers in place.
Dean swallowed as he felt his dad’s hand on his back. He was really hoping his Dad wasn’t about to use a belt on him, but he hadn’t heard the telltale sign of any kitchen drawers opening so unless he’d brought the paddle inside with him things didn’t look promising.
A line of fire confirmed his suspicions and he let his head rest against the cool wood of the table while he bit his lip and tried to control his breathing. He managed to stay still for the first round but before long John had him squirming and huffing in an earnest attempt to avoid tears. John Winchester was uncharacteristically patient when one of his boys was in trouble. It took longer than either of them expected, but eventually Dean’s posture changed and John heard the unmistakeable sound of his son sniffing as the first tears fell.
“Talk to me, Dean.”
Dean whimpered, fists clenched, but managed to answer his dad on the second try. He hated being in this position, but even more than that he hated how vulnerable it made him feel. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always had to be efficient, responsible and in control of his feelings in order to help his dad take care of Sammy. He wasn’t used to the sensations associated with being spanked in any other context and hated how quickly all his walls crumbled when he was bent over getting his ass warmed. Dad knew he hated, much to Dean’s embarrassment, but thankfully they rarely had to talk much to get to the bottom of whatever infraction Dean had committed.
This time was no different. Dad wasn’t a big believer in talking throughout a punishment which was a relief for Dean’s pride but also awful because it made his surrounding so much more clear. The birdsong seemed louder, the smell of mac and cheese in the oven was overwhelming to his nostrils, and the fiery sting in his backside felt like a thousand needles leaving tiny pinpricks on his backside and thighs. When Dad pushed him a little further into the table, Dean knew they were nearly finished. Unfortunately it meant the worst part was about to take place, and Dean was grimly aware of the fact his sit spots would soon be in the line of fire.
By the time he’d taken a dozen solid whacks to his sit spots, Dean’s bravado was gone. He was no longer ashamed to cry and make desperate promises to be more careful in his Dad’s beloved Impala. He was distraught when his Dad informed him he would be losing access to the keys for a week, but by that point was so keen to be forgiven that he willingly agreed.
John finished up then stepped back, rethreading his belt through its loops and fastening the buckle securely before moving back to give his son’s back a few reassuring pats. “All done, kid. Next time, you leave your social before curfew, alright? I don’t like having to do that. I hate you putting yourself in danger even more though.”
“I know, D...Dad… M’sorry…”
“Shh. I know. All done now, Dean. Just breathe for me.” John pulled his son upright to a standing position, placing one big hand on his son’s neck and using the leverage to pull him in close for a brief, reassuring squeeze. Neither of them spoke while Dean took a few moments to collect himself, but eventually he stepped back and brushed at his eyes in despair.
“Ugh… Dude…”
“Right back at you, squirt. C’mon, enough tears now. I gotta go pick up your brother, why don’t you check on dinner and put something comfier on? Maybe once we’ve eaten we could watch a movie or something? There might even be a ball game on that Sammy might watch without bitching.”
Dean grinned. “I think there’s some hockey on…”
John chuckled. His boys supported different teams so the ice hockey always got a little competitive in their house, but it was always fun to spend a little time together. He nodded in acknowledgement, reaching out to muss his son’s hair affectionately before turning to collect his keys off the counter. “Sure, Deano. I think we have some of that popcorn in the cupboard. Maybe I can even source a few Pepsi’s for you boys. I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything dumb…”
“I won’t, Sir…” John smiled at him and left quietly, giving him time to process and recover from what had just happened. Dean palmed his backside gingerly and shook his head, kicking his jeans off and going up to change before plating up dinner. Maybe today would turn out alright after all, despite the unexpected surprise that afternoon.
Title: An Unwanted surprise
Pairing: John/Dean
Summary: Two of the Winchesters receive a surprise they weren't looking for.
Implement: Belt
We need to talk!
Dad
Dean saw the note on the kitchen table and gulped, dropping his keys with a clatter. He mentally ran through a list in his head, trying to work out what he could possibly have done wrong. He groaned, unsure what to expect. The note didn’t sound angry, but with Dad nothing was guaranteed.
Trying not to panic, he wandered over to the sink and poured himself a tall glass of water then backtracked to collect the schoolbag he’d left abandoned by the door. Usually if there was a chance that Dad would kick your ass, it was best to minimise the damage while you had the opportunity to help yourself.
He worked in silence for a couple of hours, leaning back with a pleased sigh when he finally finished his work for the day. Luckily it hadn’t been a night of rigorous studying, for which Dean was grateful. Sam was at the library with a couple of friends so it was quiet in the house, and the sound of birdsong could be heard just outside the window.
Unsure what to do next, he tidied away his books and wandered to the fridge to try and gather enough ingredients to make something for dinner. They had enough to make a decent batch of mac and cheese so Dean set to work on making dinner. He was happily singing along to classic rock when the kitchen door closed sharply. Dean didn’t notice. John Winchester watched him for a moment from the doorway before clearing his throat.
“Deano.”
Dean didn’t look up, too lost in his own world. He looked up in confusion when the radio went silent abruptly. He looked around the room, grimacing when he saw his father leaning against the doorjamb with arms folded.
“Oh,” he smiled weakly, “Hey Dad.”
“Hi, son. Good day?”
“Uh, sure. Um… Was yours okay?”
“It came to pass. Woulda been better if I didn’t get a speeding fine for one Dean Winchester in the post this morning.”
Dean’s eyes widened. “But… Huh?”
“Yup. Apparently one of those fancy cameras they’ve just released caught you doing 70 in a 60 zone on Monday. Funny, cause I swear I didn’t teach you to drive Baby so you could cost me big ass fines or attention from the cops…”
Dean swallowed nervously. Sure, on Monday he may have gone a little over the speed limit, but he’d been running late for curfew and… He ran a hand through his cropped hair, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sir, I didn’t… I mean… Uh, it’s just… It wasn’t that bad….”
John rolled his eyes. “I see. So you got a hundred bucks sitting about to pay your bill then?”
“Uh…”
“Right. That’s what I thought. You’re lucky I’ve picked up extra shifts recently, kid. I’ll pay your fine but you’ll be earning your keep. You’ll have training at 0530 hours for the next week, don’t expect me to go easy on you. And you can kiss your social life goodbye this weekend, cause you’ll be doing a shitload of chores round this house. But first off, we have a little discussion to have. Get your ass over the table and drop your jeans.”
“What? But… sir! Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” Dean protested, holding his hands up placatingly.
“You’re really asking me that? Wow, I’m impressed. I thought you might have learned better by now. Don’t make me tell you again, Dean. Unless you’d rather Sammy witnessed this....”
Dean shuddered, shaking his head and scrambling towards the table. He managed to unfasten his jeans and shove them to his knees whilst simultaneously managing to bend himself over the table. John nodded in satisfaction, standing up and rolling his shirt sleeves up. He unthreaded his belt from his jeans, folding it over speculatively. At just shy of 17, his son had experienced the belt a handful of times now, so it was a familiar dance they were about to start. He opted to allow his eldest the small relief of his modesty by leaving his boxers in place.
Dean swallowed as he felt his dad’s hand on his back. He was really hoping his Dad wasn’t about to use a belt on him, but he hadn’t heard the telltale sign of any kitchen drawers opening so unless he’d brought the paddle inside with him things didn’t look promising.
A line of fire confirmed his suspicions and he let his head rest against the cool wood of the table while he bit his lip and tried to control his breathing. He managed to stay still for the first round but before long John had him squirming and huffing in an earnest attempt to avoid tears. John Winchester was uncharacteristically patient when one of his boys was in trouble. It took longer than either of them expected, but eventually Dean’s posture changed and John heard the unmistakeable sound of his son sniffing as the first tears fell.
“Talk to me, Dean.”
Dean whimpered, fists clenched, but managed to answer his dad on the second try. He hated being in this position, but even more than that he hated how vulnerable it made him feel. Ever since he was a kid, he’d always had to be efficient, responsible and in control of his feelings in order to help his dad take care of Sammy. He wasn’t used to the sensations associated with being spanked in any other context and hated how quickly all his walls crumbled when he was bent over getting his ass warmed. Dad knew he hated, much to Dean’s embarrassment, but thankfully they rarely had to talk much to get to the bottom of whatever infraction Dean had committed.
This time was no different. Dad wasn’t a big believer in talking throughout a punishment which was a relief for Dean’s pride but also awful because it made his surrounding so much more clear. The birdsong seemed louder, the smell of mac and cheese in the oven was overwhelming to his nostrils, and the fiery sting in his backside felt like a thousand needles leaving tiny pinpricks on his backside and thighs. When Dad pushed him a little further into the table, Dean knew they were nearly finished. Unfortunately it meant the worst part was about to take place, and Dean was grimly aware of the fact his sit spots would soon be in the line of fire.
By the time he’d taken a dozen solid whacks to his sit spots, Dean’s bravado was gone. He was no longer ashamed to cry and make desperate promises to be more careful in his Dad’s beloved Impala. He was distraught when his Dad informed him he would be losing access to the keys for a week, but by that point was so keen to be forgiven that he willingly agreed.
John finished up then stepped back, rethreading his belt through its loops and fastening the buckle securely before moving back to give his son’s back a few reassuring pats. “All done, kid. Next time, you leave your social before curfew, alright? I don’t like having to do that. I hate you putting yourself in danger even more though.”
“I know, D...Dad… M’sorry…”
“Shh. I know. All done now, Dean. Just breathe for me.” John pulled his son upright to a standing position, placing one big hand on his son’s neck and using the leverage to pull him in close for a brief, reassuring squeeze. Neither of them spoke while Dean took a few moments to collect himself, but eventually he stepped back and brushed at his eyes in despair.
“Ugh… Dude…”
“Right back at you, squirt. C’mon, enough tears now. I gotta go pick up your brother, why don’t you check on dinner and put something comfier on? Maybe once we’ve eaten we could watch a movie or something? There might even be a ball game on that Sammy might watch without bitching.”
Dean grinned. “I think there’s some hockey on…”
John chuckled. His boys supported different teams so the ice hockey always got a little competitive in their house, but it was always fun to spend a little time together. He nodded in acknowledgement, reaching out to muss his son’s hair affectionately before turning to collect his keys off the counter. “Sure, Deano. I think we have some of that popcorn in the cupboard. Maybe I can even source a few Pepsi’s for you boys. I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything dumb…”
“I won’t, Sir…” John smiled at him and left quietly, giving him time to process and recover from what had just happened. Dean palmed his backside gingerly and shook his head, kicking his jeans off and going up to change before plating up dinner. Maybe today would turn out alright after all, despite the unexpected surprise that afternoon.