Supernatural Fic: Texas Blues
Title: Texas Blues
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: Teen, but we'll say 18+ to be safe
Warnings: Curse words, paddling of a teen, mentions of belt
Characters: Dean (18), Sam (14)
Spoilers: Season 1?
Scenario: Dean punishes Sammy
Implement: Paddle
Summary: October 3, 1997, Sam comes home from school in a bad mood that Dean must deal with.
Word Count: 3,062
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to condone spanking in real life.
Author's Notes: Written for atalantaj, who requested Dean spanks Sam, teen!chesters.
Dean was watching “Days of Our Lives.” He couldn’t believe this crappy rental house in rural Texas didn’t even have cable, but then this town didn’t seem to have much of anything. Except for a few rather innocent, hot girls. Brooke had said that her favorite tv show was “Days of Our Lives,” so what the hell, why not? Dean was curious and bored.
Dean quickly flipped the show off as he heard the sound of the bus dropping Sammy off after school. It was so nice to finally be old enough not to have to go to school anymore. A moment later the door flung open as Sammy entered the house.
“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said with a little bit too much excitement. He’d been waiting for his brother to get home all day. “How was school? Ready to go train?” He was supposed to help his brother improve his rifle skills. Anything involving guns definitely sounded like a good time in this town.
To Dean’s great surprise, Sam didn’t respond to him at all. He threw, actually threw, his book bag full force across the room. It landed against an end table and nearly broke a lamp. Dean looked at the book bag in shock. Sammy was always so neat, a ‘book bag goes here’ type. By the time Dean turned back around Sammy was running up the stairs without a word.
Well that was weird. Sammy was always talkative after school. He liked sharing with Dean what he’d learned that day, even if Dean only ever half paid attention. And the book bag thing? Sammy was lucky it hadn’t landed an inch to the right and broken that lamp. Dad would have tore into him something awful for damaging rental property.
“My day was great, Dean. Heck yeah I’m ready to go train. Rifles tonight, right?” Dean mocked Sammy’s voice into the air to no one. “That’s right. Rifles, Sammy,” Dean pretended to reply in his own excited voice. Dean shook his head at himself and sat back down in his chair. Sometimes he could swear his brother was actually a girl. But he’d give his over-emotional brother some time to cool off before he went up there. And this way he could finish his show. Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he was actually curious how this whole Stefano situation would work out.
The episode ended, rather unresolved Dean thought, as the credits began rolling over an hourglass. He got up and flipped off the television again. His brother had been given enough time. They really did need to train before Dad got home. Sammy could use some work on his rifle skills. Taking the stairs two at a time, Dean dashed up to their bedroom door. They were sharing a room again; they were always stuck sharing a room. But Dean was nice enough to knock, just in case his brother was doing something . . . private.
There was no response, so Dean knocked again. Nothing. Finally Dean opened the door. It was his room too, and he was just knocking to be nice. He found his brother sprawled out on his bed, listening to his headphones, and . . . oh God, he was crying. Geez, his brother really was a girl. Once that thought was out of the way, though, Dean’s first instinct was to protect his brother. Maybe something had happened at school. Dean would kill any punk kid that had picked on his brother.
Sammy hadn’t even noticed him come into the room. He had his headphones on and was crying into his arms with his eyes shut. Dean tried to talk to him, but it was obvious that his headphones were turned up way too loud for him to hear anything. Finally Dean just yanked them off his head.
“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asked with concern.
“Dean!” his brother screamed. “Get out of my room!”
“My room too,” Dean countered. Why was Sammy being such a whiny baby? Dean had actually been trying to be nice.
“Get out and leave me alone!” he screamed.
Dean blinked. Okay, that was uncalled for. “No can do, Sammy. We’ve got to train.”
“I’m not training. Leave me alone! Just leave me alone, Dean.”
“What’s the matter with you? You got PMS or something? Look, Dad left orders. I’ve got to get you hitting targets accurately from 100 feet. Or else, basically.”
Suddenly there was a portable CD player flying through the air heading directly for Dean’s head. It was a good shot. It would have hit him hard had Dean not ducked seconds before it impacted. Instead it crashed into the wall and broke apart.
Anger flared within Dean. That was it. He remembered being moody at fourteen, and he’d tried to give his brother some space to cool off, but throwing things at him was not cool. He’d given his brother multiple chances to talk to him about what was going on. Well he was going to get to the bottom of this now, literally, before Dad got home and Sammy really got himself into trouble.
Without another word, Dean dug through his bag for Dad’s paddle. Dad had made him carry it on the last hunting trip to remind him to behave and follow orders. Just the threat of it had been enough to keep Dean in line. Now he was going to have to use it to get Sam’s behavior corrected.
Dean sat the paddle on the desk they shared and pulled out the chair. Dean hated doing this, but his brother wasn’t leaving him a lot of choices. “Sammy, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this stops now. You don’t throw things at me. All you accomplished is breaking one of your favorite things. Now start following orders and stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum. You’re going to get five pops and then we’re going to go train. Over my knee.”
Dean grabbed for Sammy’s wrist as he said it. He knew Sammy always needed a little push to help him go over his lap. But Sammy started seriously fighting him, struggling and kicking him. “No! No, Dean! Leave me alone!”
Dean stepped back. He could easily take his brother, but he wasn’t going to have this fight. Calmly, he said, “Sammy, do you REALLY want me to tell Dad that you came home, disobeyed direct orders, refused to train, threw things at me, and kicked me? Think about how that’s going to go. I see a belt in your future if you pick that path.” It wasn’t an idle threat. Dean could already see the artery bulging in his father’s neck as his entire face turned crimson with this news.
That stopped Sammy’s fighting immediately. “No, Dean, please,” his brother begged. He looked like he might cry again.
Dean sighed. He was so vulnerable to his brother’s puppy-dog face. It was hard to fight, but not this time. Sammy had really crossed the line by throwing things and kicking him. “Come on, Sammy. Five pops and we can forget about it. Over my knee.” Dean sat down, silently praying that his brother would take what was obviously the better option. Dean really didn’t want Dad punishing Sammy again tonight. He hated ratting on his brother, and it would put everyone in the house in a bad mood.
There were tears in Sammy’s eyes as he stepped over to Dean. “Not hard? Please, Dean, not too hard,” he pleaded as he unbuttoned and unzipped the fly of his jeans. He shoved his jeans down to his knees and bent over Dean’s lap without argument.
Dean didn’t know what was going on with his brother. He was aggressive and fighting one moment and then so scared and docile the next. But this Sammy made Dean feel all protective. He rubbed his brother’s back gently. “I’m always fair, Sammy. You know that. Come on; let’s just get this over with.” He reached for the waistband of Sammy’s boxers.
Suddenly Sammy was fighting again, squirming to get away. Dean captured his younger brother’s wrist in his hand and pinned it to his back and snagged his legs between his own. It was a less comfortable position, but his brother was secure, and his bottom was nicely up in the air. “Jesus, Sammy, what has gotten into you?” His brother knew better than to fight on a punishment.
“Not on the bare, Dean! Please, not on the bare. Give me ten. I don’t care, just not on the bare.”
Dean scrunched up his face in confusion. He spanked Sam on the bare all the time. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but not worth extra pops over. “What is UP with you?” Dean demanded again. “You got a woody or something?” It was the only thing he could think of.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it,” Sammy agreed all too readily.
Dean could tell when his brother was lying, and this was definitely a lie. Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he figured at this point he’d find out sooner or later. Maybe a few smacks with the paddle would loosen his brother’s tongue. Dean hated to do it, but Sam had really earned them this time. Without another word, he yanked his brother’s boxers down.
Dean gasped at what he saw. His brother’s bottom was already crimson. There was some clear bruising in a few spots. Dean had to blink to confirm what he was seeing. “Woah! Something you want to tell me, Sammy?”
Sammy was sobbing. Dean did feel a little bit of sympathy for him now. Someone had blistered his brother’s butt good. Tenderly, Dean rubbed his brother’s back. “You got paddled at school?” Dean suggested. He’d have noticed if Dad had paddled Sammy last night. Dean received a sob and a nod in response. He kept rubbing soothing circles on the back over his lap. “What happened?” Dean asked gently.
Sammy sniffled but didn’t reply. “Oh come on, Sammy! Do you have any idea how many times I got paddled in school?” Dean asked. “I know you’re embarrassed, but you’re talking to an expert in school paddlings here. What happened?”
The body leaning over his knee seemed to finally relax a little. “There’s this bully, Aaron Heath.”
“Uh huh,” Dean prompted his brother to continue. If this bully had gotten Sam into trouble, he’d go kick the kid’s ass.
“He picks on all the kids for no reason. He’s just a complete dick. And today he . . . he threw ketchup on Kirsten Simmon’s pretty pink shirt and ruined it. She was so embarrassed and started crying, and . . . well, I punched him, Dean. Decked him good.”
Dean started laughing hysterically. He couldn’t help himself.
“What?” Sammy asked, annoyed.
“You got paddled for fighting over a girl?” The irony that this was what Sam had wanted to hide from Dean was just too much. “You win at least?” Dean asked.
Sam nodded. “Knocked him out cold, actually. Apparently he doesn’t know how to fight at all.”
“Good for you, Sammy!” Dean was all grins. “My baby brother got into a fight over a girl. You’re practically a man now, Sammy.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Sam grumbled. “It was humiliating. Everybody knew I got it, and they were all teasing me on the bus.”
“That’s only because they can see it’s getting to you, Sammy. The next kid that teases you, just grin back at him and say it was so totally worth it. Because the awesome thing about this is that Kirsten is going to be soooo grateful. She like you?”
“I don’t know.” Sammy shrugged as best he could from his position. “She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”
“She does now. Do you like her?” Dean continued, giving the words a slightly teasing emphasis.
“Yeah,” Sammy admitted with a blush. “A lot.”
“She hot?” Dean asked, knowingly.
“Yeah. Pretty blonde curls, gorgeous blue eyes, perfect fair skin.” Sammy was practically drooling.
“Nice rack?”
“Hey!” Sam exclaimed protectively. Dean just laughed. “I’m glad you find this all so very amusing, Dean. Does that mean you’re going to let me off the hook for getting in trouble at school?” Sam asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Dean agreed with a nod. “Actually, yeah. I’ll even help you forge the discipline slip with Dad’s signature, and I won’t tell him.”
“Really?” Sam was relieved and excited.
“Yep. You get one freebie on this one.”
Sam tried to get up, only to be locked back down by Dean. “Uh, let me up?”
“Not a chance. I’m still going to spank you for your attitude with me and throwing things at me. And kicking me. Not cool, dude.”
“Dean!”
“I know you were in a bad mood from the paddling and the bus, but you could have just told me what happened, and I’d have given you some time. Breaking stuff and kicking me was not called for.”
“I thought you’d tease me too,” Sam whispered.
“For this? Nah. That’d be hypocritical. I’m actually kind of proud of you, Sammy. About time you got a thing for a girl. I’ll only tease you for stuff you deserve it for. You know, like being a shrimp. And a book nerd.” He playfully ruffled his brother’s hair in a way he knew Sammy hated.
“Dean, do you really have to spank me?” Sammy asked seriously. “My butt’s already toast. I don’t know how the principal made it hurt that bad over my jeans.”
“Paddling’s what they do, Sammy. They get good at it. How many did you get?”
“Six,” Sammy whimpered.
“Shew, strict school,” Dean commented as he gently touched a few of the bruises on his brother’s bottom. “Texas, I guess. I got it really hard when we were here when I was eleven. You remember that? That stupid teacher gave it to me in the cafeteria in front of everyone. He made me stand up and bend over the caf table and gave me pops right there. And then I got it in the classroom too just because I didn’t hand in some stupid assignment.”
“Maybe we should convince Dad that our training house should be further north,” Sammy suggested.
“Definitely,” Dean agreed. “In a city with more nightlife. And hot girls. We’ll work on that. But we’ve got to deal with this craphole for now.”
“Spanking time?” Sammy cringed.
“Yeah, sorry, kiddo. Don’t mouth off to me like that. And don’t throw a temper tantrum like a toddler. Then I wouldn’t have to do this. You can actually talk to me, you know?”
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed sadly. “I was just . . . mad. I’m sorry I took it out on you, Dean.”
Dean nodded, but it didn’t really change anything.
“Be careful, Dean? My butt really does hurt,” Sammy said.
“I can tell that,” Dean agreed. “Guy blistered you good. But paddles like that leave a lot of space for me to work with. You’re still totally white here and here.” Dean put a gentle hand on the place where Sammy’s bottom met his legs and also on his thighs.
“But those are the most sensitive parts!” Sammy cried.
“Guess you should have thought of that before you threw something at me,” Dean suggested. Arguing about it wasn’t going to accomplish anything, so with finality he picked up the paddle. “Five, Sammy. Come on. You can take five. You know you deserve them for kicking me.”
Dean could tell from the slump of Sammy’s shoulders that he was done fighting and was resigned to this. Dean did feel for the kid, but then he remembered how ridiculous Sammy had been throwing a tantrum instead of just telling his brother what was going on. The kid needed to be reminded that he was in charge when Dad wasn’t around, and he needed to treat him with a little respect. Dedicated to the task, Dean raised the paddle and smacked his brother’s bottom right at the curve. Sammy hissed with pain, but took it well. Dean knew it had to hurt. He knew how very sensitive that area was from experience, but he wasn’t going to paddle him over bruises and there wasn’t a whole lot of area left to deal with. He gave Sammy the second pop on the other cheek in the exact same spot.
That started the waterworks. Dean hated it when Sammy cried. He hated it more than anything, but Sam needed to learn. There was a chain of command in this household, Dad then Dean, and you did not backtalk authority. Not when it was time to train. With that in mind he gave his brother three quick smacks to his thighs. They were fast and hard, but at least it was over. Dean didn’t want to drag this out any longer.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sammy sniffled.
“Shh, it’s over. Done,” Dean said as he sat the paddle down and gingerly pulled his brother’s boxers back up. He rubbed the kid’s back for a moment before he let him up to refasten his jeans. “I know you don’t feel up to it, but we really do have to train with the rifle tonight.”
“I don’t want to, Dean,” Sammy complained. “Training’s so stupid. I hate it. And I have homework to do. You said yourself what’s probably going to happen if I don’t get it done.”
“I know,” Dean acknowledged. He didn’t understand Sammy’s hatred of training at all, but he was well aware of it. “But, Dad’s going to bust MY butt if you’re not hitting those targets. Let’s go work on your rifle skills. The sooner you hit those targets, the sooner we can come in. Then I’ll help you with that assignment. I probably did a similar one not that long ago. And I’ll even try to fix your CD player, if I can. I’m pretty good at that sort of thing.”
To Dean’s great surprise, Sam was suddenly hugging his waist. “Thanks, Dean. I’m sorry I was such a jerk.”
Dean shook his head. Hormones. It had to be hormones. “No problem, kiddo. Your big brother always takes care of you, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed as they headed out behind the house to their shooting range. “He does.”
"So tell me more about Kirsten," Dean teased.
--------The End--------
Comments are greatly appreciated.
Author: sirenprincess
Rating: Teen, but we'll say 18+ to be safe
Warnings: Curse words, paddling of a teen, mentions of belt
Characters: Dean (18), Sam (14)
Spoilers: Season 1?
Scenario: Dean punishes Sammy
Implement: Paddle
Summary: October 3, 1997, Sam comes home from school in a bad mood that Dean must deal with.
Word Count: 3,062
Disclaimer: This work is based on characters and situations created and owned by the CW. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is a work of fiction and is not meant to condone spanking in real life.
Author's Notes: Written for atalantaj, who requested Dean spanks Sam, teen!chesters.
Dean was watching “Days of Our Lives.” He couldn’t believe this crappy rental house in rural Texas didn’t even have cable, but then this town didn’t seem to have much of anything. Except for a few rather innocent, hot girls. Brooke had said that her favorite tv show was “Days of Our Lives,” so what the hell, why not? Dean was curious and bored.
Dean quickly flipped the show off as he heard the sound of the bus dropping Sammy off after school. It was so nice to finally be old enough not to have to go to school anymore. A moment later the door flung open as Sammy entered the house.
“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said with a little bit too much excitement. He’d been waiting for his brother to get home all day. “How was school? Ready to go train?” He was supposed to help his brother improve his rifle skills. Anything involving guns definitely sounded like a good time in this town.
To Dean’s great surprise, Sam didn’t respond to him at all. He threw, actually threw, his book bag full force across the room. It landed against an end table and nearly broke a lamp. Dean looked at the book bag in shock. Sammy was always so neat, a ‘book bag goes here’ type. By the time Dean turned back around Sammy was running up the stairs without a word.
Well that was weird. Sammy was always talkative after school. He liked sharing with Dean what he’d learned that day, even if Dean only ever half paid attention. And the book bag thing? Sammy was lucky it hadn’t landed an inch to the right and broken that lamp. Dad would have tore into him something awful for damaging rental property.
“My day was great, Dean. Heck yeah I’m ready to go train. Rifles tonight, right?” Dean mocked Sammy’s voice into the air to no one. “That’s right. Rifles, Sammy,” Dean pretended to reply in his own excited voice. Dean shook his head at himself and sat back down in his chair. Sometimes he could swear his brother was actually a girl. But he’d give his over-emotional brother some time to cool off before he went up there. And this way he could finish his show. Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he was actually curious how this whole Stefano situation would work out.
The episode ended, rather unresolved Dean thought, as the credits began rolling over an hourglass. He got up and flipped off the television again. His brother had been given enough time. They really did need to train before Dad got home. Sammy could use some work on his rifle skills. Taking the stairs two at a time, Dean dashed up to their bedroom door. They were sharing a room again; they were always stuck sharing a room. But Dean was nice enough to knock, just in case his brother was doing something . . . private.
There was no response, so Dean knocked again. Nothing. Finally Dean opened the door. It was his room too, and he was just knocking to be nice. He found his brother sprawled out on his bed, listening to his headphones, and . . . oh God, he was crying. Geez, his brother really was a girl. Once that thought was out of the way, though, Dean’s first instinct was to protect his brother. Maybe something had happened at school. Dean would kill any punk kid that had picked on his brother.
Sammy hadn’t even noticed him come into the room. He had his headphones on and was crying into his arms with his eyes shut. Dean tried to talk to him, but it was obvious that his headphones were turned up way too loud for him to hear anything. Finally Dean just yanked them off his head.
“You alright, Sammy?” Dean asked with concern.
“Dean!” his brother screamed. “Get out of my room!”
“My room too,” Dean countered. Why was Sammy being such a whiny baby? Dean had actually been trying to be nice.
“Get out and leave me alone!” he screamed.
Dean blinked. Okay, that was uncalled for. “No can do, Sammy. We’ve got to train.”
“I’m not training. Leave me alone! Just leave me alone, Dean.”
“What’s the matter with you? You got PMS or something? Look, Dad left orders. I’ve got to get you hitting targets accurately from 100 feet. Or else, basically.”
Suddenly there was a portable CD player flying through the air heading directly for Dean’s head. It was a good shot. It would have hit him hard had Dean not ducked seconds before it impacted. Instead it crashed into the wall and broke apart.
Anger flared within Dean. That was it. He remembered being moody at fourteen, and he’d tried to give his brother some space to cool off, but throwing things at him was not cool. He’d given his brother multiple chances to talk to him about what was going on. Well he was going to get to the bottom of this now, literally, before Dad got home and Sammy really got himself into trouble.
Without another word, Dean dug through his bag for Dad’s paddle. Dad had made him carry it on the last hunting trip to remind him to behave and follow orders. Just the threat of it had been enough to keep Dean in line. Now he was going to have to use it to get Sam’s behavior corrected.
Dean sat the paddle on the desk they shared and pulled out the chair. Dean hated doing this, but his brother wasn’t leaving him a lot of choices. “Sammy, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this stops now. You don’t throw things at me. All you accomplished is breaking one of your favorite things. Now start following orders and stop acting like a child throwing a tantrum. You’re going to get five pops and then we’re going to go train. Over my knee.”
Dean grabbed for Sammy’s wrist as he said it. He knew Sammy always needed a little push to help him go over his lap. But Sammy started seriously fighting him, struggling and kicking him. “No! No, Dean! Leave me alone!”
Dean stepped back. He could easily take his brother, but he wasn’t going to have this fight. Calmly, he said, “Sammy, do you REALLY want me to tell Dad that you came home, disobeyed direct orders, refused to train, threw things at me, and kicked me? Think about how that’s going to go. I see a belt in your future if you pick that path.” It wasn’t an idle threat. Dean could already see the artery bulging in his father’s neck as his entire face turned crimson with this news.
That stopped Sammy’s fighting immediately. “No, Dean, please,” his brother begged. He looked like he might cry again.
Dean sighed. He was so vulnerable to his brother’s puppy-dog face. It was hard to fight, but not this time. Sammy had really crossed the line by throwing things and kicking him. “Come on, Sammy. Five pops and we can forget about it. Over my knee.” Dean sat down, silently praying that his brother would take what was obviously the better option. Dean really didn’t want Dad punishing Sammy again tonight. He hated ratting on his brother, and it would put everyone in the house in a bad mood.
There were tears in Sammy’s eyes as he stepped over to Dean. “Not hard? Please, Dean, not too hard,” he pleaded as he unbuttoned and unzipped the fly of his jeans. He shoved his jeans down to his knees and bent over Dean’s lap without argument.
Dean didn’t know what was going on with his brother. He was aggressive and fighting one moment and then so scared and docile the next. But this Sammy made Dean feel all protective. He rubbed his brother’s back gently. “I’m always fair, Sammy. You know that. Come on; let’s just get this over with.” He reached for the waistband of Sammy’s boxers.
Suddenly Sammy was fighting again, squirming to get away. Dean captured his younger brother’s wrist in his hand and pinned it to his back and snagged his legs between his own. It was a less comfortable position, but his brother was secure, and his bottom was nicely up in the air. “Jesus, Sammy, what has gotten into you?” His brother knew better than to fight on a punishment.
“Not on the bare, Dean! Please, not on the bare. Give me ten. I don’t care, just not on the bare.”
Dean scrunched up his face in confusion. He spanked Sam on the bare all the time. Yeah, it was embarrassing, but not worth extra pops over. “What is UP with you?” Dean demanded again. “You got a woody or something?” It was the only thing he could think of.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it,” Sammy agreed all too readily.
Dean could tell when his brother was lying, and this was definitely a lie. Dean didn’t know what was going on, but he figured at this point he’d find out sooner or later. Maybe a few smacks with the paddle would loosen his brother’s tongue. Dean hated to do it, but Sam had really earned them this time. Without another word, he yanked his brother’s boxers down.
Dean gasped at what he saw. His brother’s bottom was already crimson. There was some clear bruising in a few spots. Dean had to blink to confirm what he was seeing. “Woah! Something you want to tell me, Sammy?”
Sammy was sobbing. Dean did feel a little bit of sympathy for him now. Someone had blistered his brother’s butt good. Tenderly, Dean rubbed his brother’s back. “You got paddled at school?” Dean suggested. He’d have noticed if Dad had paddled Sammy last night. Dean received a sob and a nod in response. He kept rubbing soothing circles on the back over his lap. “What happened?” Dean asked gently.
Sammy sniffled but didn’t reply. “Oh come on, Sammy! Do you have any idea how many times I got paddled in school?” Dean asked. “I know you’re embarrassed, but you’re talking to an expert in school paddlings here. What happened?”
The body leaning over his knee seemed to finally relax a little. “There’s this bully, Aaron Heath.”
“Uh huh,” Dean prompted his brother to continue. If this bully had gotten Sam into trouble, he’d go kick the kid’s ass.
“He picks on all the kids for no reason. He’s just a complete dick. And today he . . . he threw ketchup on Kirsten Simmon’s pretty pink shirt and ruined it. She was so embarrassed and started crying, and . . . well, I punched him, Dean. Decked him good.”
Dean started laughing hysterically. He couldn’t help himself.
“What?” Sammy asked, annoyed.
“You got paddled for fighting over a girl?” The irony that this was what Sam had wanted to hide from Dean was just too much. “You win at least?” Dean asked.
Sam nodded. “Knocked him out cold, actually. Apparently he doesn’t know how to fight at all.”
“Good for you, Sammy!” Dean was all grins. “My baby brother got into a fight over a girl. You’re practically a man now, Sammy.”
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Sam grumbled. “It was humiliating. Everybody knew I got it, and they were all teasing me on the bus.”
“That’s only because they can see it’s getting to you, Sammy. The next kid that teases you, just grin back at him and say it was so totally worth it. Because the awesome thing about this is that Kirsten is going to be soooo grateful. She like you?”
“I don’t know.” Sammy shrugged as best he could from his position. “She probably doesn’t even know I exist.”
“She does now. Do you like her?” Dean continued, giving the words a slightly teasing emphasis.
“Yeah,” Sammy admitted with a blush. “A lot.”
“She hot?” Dean asked, knowingly.
“Yeah. Pretty blonde curls, gorgeous blue eyes, perfect fair skin.” Sammy was practically drooling.
“Nice rack?”
“Hey!” Sam exclaimed protectively. Dean just laughed. “I’m glad you find this all so very amusing, Dean. Does that mean you’re going to let me off the hook for getting in trouble at school?” Sam asked hopefully.
“Yes,” Dean agreed with a nod. “Actually, yeah. I’ll even help you forge the discipline slip with Dad’s signature, and I won’t tell him.”
“Really?” Sam was relieved and excited.
“Yep. You get one freebie on this one.”
Sam tried to get up, only to be locked back down by Dean. “Uh, let me up?”
“Not a chance. I’m still going to spank you for your attitude with me and throwing things at me. And kicking me. Not cool, dude.”
“Dean!”
“I know you were in a bad mood from the paddling and the bus, but you could have just told me what happened, and I’d have given you some time. Breaking stuff and kicking me was not called for.”
“I thought you’d tease me too,” Sam whispered.
“For this? Nah. That’d be hypocritical. I’m actually kind of proud of you, Sammy. About time you got a thing for a girl. I’ll only tease you for stuff you deserve it for. You know, like being a shrimp. And a book nerd.” He playfully ruffled his brother’s hair in a way he knew Sammy hated.
“Dean, do you really have to spank me?” Sammy asked seriously. “My butt’s already toast. I don’t know how the principal made it hurt that bad over my jeans.”
“Paddling’s what they do, Sammy. They get good at it. How many did you get?”
“Six,” Sammy whimpered.
“Shew, strict school,” Dean commented as he gently touched a few of the bruises on his brother’s bottom. “Texas, I guess. I got it really hard when we were here when I was eleven. You remember that? That stupid teacher gave it to me in the cafeteria in front of everyone. He made me stand up and bend over the caf table and gave me pops right there. And then I got it in the classroom too just because I didn’t hand in some stupid assignment.”
“Maybe we should convince Dad that our training house should be further north,” Sammy suggested.
“Definitely,” Dean agreed. “In a city with more nightlife. And hot girls. We’ll work on that. But we’ve got to deal with this craphole for now.”
“Spanking time?” Sammy cringed.
“Yeah, sorry, kiddo. Don’t mouth off to me like that. And don’t throw a temper tantrum like a toddler. Then I wouldn’t have to do this. You can actually talk to me, you know?”
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed sadly. “I was just . . . mad. I’m sorry I took it out on you, Dean.”
Dean nodded, but it didn’t really change anything.
“Be careful, Dean? My butt really does hurt,” Sammy said.
“I can tell that,” Dean agreed. “Guy blistered you good. But paddles like that leave a lot of space for me to work with. You’re still totally white here and here.” Dean put a gentle hand on the place where Sammy’s bottom met his legs and also on his thighs.
“But those are the most sensitive parts!” Sammy cried.
“Guess you should have thought of that before you threw something at me,” Dean suggested. Arguing about it wasn’t going to accomplish anything, so with finality he picked up the paddle. “Five, Sammy. Come on. You can take five. You know you deserve them for kicking me.”
Dean could tell from the slump of Sammy’s shoulders that he was done fighting and was resigned to this. Dean did feel for the kid, but then he remembered how ridiculous Sammy had been throwing a tantrum instead of just telling his brother what was going on. The kid needed to be reminded that he was in charge when Dad wasn’t around, and he needed to treat him with a little respect. Dedicated to the task, Dean raised the paddle and smacked his brother’s bottom right at the curve. Sammy hissed with pain, but took it well. Dean knew it had to hurt. He knew how very sensitive that area was from experience, but he wasn’t going to paddle him over bruises and there wasn’t a whole lot of area left to deal with. He gave Sammy the second pop on the other cheek in the exact same spot.
That started the waterworks. Dean hated it when Sammy cried. He hated it more than anything, but Sam needed to learn. There was a chain of command in this household, Dad then Dean, and you did not backtalk authority. Not when it was time to train. With that in mind he gave his brother three quick smacks to his thighs. They were fast and hard, but at least it was over. Dean didn’t want to drag this out any longer.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sammy sniffled.
“Shh, it’s over. Done,” Dean said as he sat the paddle down and gingerly pulled his brother’s boxers back up. He rubbed the kid’s back for a moment before he let him up to refasten his jeans. “I know you don’t feel up to it, but we really do have to train with the rifle tonight.”
“I don’t want to, Dean,” Sammy complained. “Training’s so stupid. I hate it. And I have homework to do. You said yourself what’s probably going to happen if I don’t get it done.”
“I know,” Dean acknowledged. He didn’t understand Sammy’s hatred of training at all, but he was well aware of it. “But, Dad’s going to bust MY butt if you’re not hitting those targets. Let’s go work on your rifle skills. The sooner you hit those targets, the sooner we can come in. Then I’ll help you with that assignment. I probably did a similar one not that long ago. And I’ll even try to fix your CD player, if I can. I’m pretty good at that sort of thing.”
To Dean’s great surprise, Sam was suddenly hugging his waist. “Thanks, Dean. I’m sorry I was such a jerk.”
Dean shook his head. Hormones. It had to be hormones. “No problem, kiddo. Your big brother always takes care of you, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed as they headed out behind the house to their shooting range. “He does.”
"So tell me more about Kirsten," Dean teased.
--------The End--------
Comments are greatly appreciated.