WBY - MMA part 3
River wasn't sure what a commandant's office should look like. He'd only had experience with principals. To be truthful, even his experience with principals were pretty limited. With principals' office there was always the obligatory dying plant in the window, if there was a window. There was always the sturdy metal desk; once in a while a fancy school district had a battered wooden one. Of course there was always the tacky nameplate with the adhesive backing that was often falling off. Sometimes River had noticed the glob of Super Glue holding it together, other times the principal hadn't even bothered.
But this office?
This was nice.
The walls were wood, old but polished to a deep glow. There were brass plaques decorating the walls. River's vision was excellent, some of the oldest ones dated back to the 1800s. He couldn't read the names under the years, but he assumed they were cadets who had in some way, shape or fashion been exceptional. He glanced at the desk, mahogany that gleamed so bright he saw his own reflection in it. There were flags; MMA, the State flag and the American flag, smaller than the ones outside on the quad but beautifully presented with brass fittings. He wondered if there was an automatic vent system that could be turned on to complete the picture. At the touch of a button they could be expected to flutter on command. The thought made him smile a bit.
Then there was Commandant Fraser
The man was about his uncle's size, facing one of the large arched windows, overlooking the Quad. He wore his uniform as if it was an extension of his body. His posture was erect and his shoulders back but he looked oddly comfortable in a position that should have been uncomfortable. Fraser didn't turn, didn't address River although River was quite sure he knew he was there. How could he not?
River cleared his throat in what he thought was an unobtrusive way. He stood at Attention, something he had only learned since he had become a Winchester and even then it was the Winchester version, not exactly military but with enough Marine in it that he could pull it off fairly easily.
Fraser didn't turn but continued to look out the window, surveying his domain like a General surveying his troops. Which wasn't too far off course, thought River.
"Is that how you address your Commandant?" Fraser's voice rumbled low with a trace of rebuke.
"No, sir," River stated simply. He kept his voice steady. Just because the man wore a uniform and apparently thought of himself as God, River wasn't going to buy into it. He was comfortable with token respect because Gramps had beat it into him, but Fraser's lack of attention to River's entrance just proved that, in this particular instance, respect was in no way reciprocal. And Gramps, although a stickler for respect, did give it back to River and Jamie.
Then, because River was pissed enough to feel like it he went on, "I am unable to see your insignia from the back, sir."
Fraser snorted just a bit, a low sound that River was unsure if was amusement or indifference.
"However, Winchester, you've been sent to the Commandant's office for discipline. I hope you are not stupid enough to think that the janitor would be involved." Fraser continued to look out the window, back to River.
"No, sir…but I haven't met any janitors yet so I don't know what their uniforms might look like, nor do I know their job duties."
Fraser turned then and without any trace of what River thought might have been amusement earlier, glared at River.
"You boy, are insubordinate and a smart ass. I don't like that."
"Yes, sir," River stated again. It wasn't a question but he felt like maybe he should answer it. Besides he was insubordinate and a smart ass.
"Neither trait is good in a soldier."
"I'm not a soldier, I'm a boy."
"That's where you are wrong Winchester. As long as you are a cadet here at MMA, you are in fact a soldier. You will follow the orders of your superiors, you will respect the uniform and the rank."
River sighed. Here we go.
Fraser stalked to the desk like a cat and yet never once appeared to be unmilitary in his movement. It seemed a contradiction, catlike versus military. Then again if you wanted to be a good soldier, or for that matter a good hunter, then you needed to move quietly. River didn't have a lot of experience with cats except for Godzilla the barn cat, but Godzilla was pretty quiet, except when he was tearing a helpless rat or mouse into pieces so why not Fraser?
The thought of Fraser disemboweling River like a mouse gave him a moment's pause.
"I have been looking at your records, Winchester. Apparently, you were quite the trouble maker at Valley Forge Military Academy, unlike your cousin I might add."
River wondered for a moment what kind of made up records had been orchestrated by Uncle Bobby. They had discussed the fact that River would be the bad kid and Jamie the good. It made sense, River was intrinsically non-military and as such would be more likely to screw up. That being said, no one expected everything to go to hell in a hand basket this soon.
"I have made some judgment errors in the past, sir." River thought that would pretty much cover whatever he "did" at his other military school.
"And it's pretty obvious your are continuing that tradition here at Montford," Fraser moved to his desk but didn't yet take a seat. "I don't like you Winchester. I don't like your attitude. I don't like the way you present yourself and I especially don't like boys who come to my institution and within a few hours are being sent here to see me."
"May I speak freely?" River tried to be as military as he could.
"No."
"Okay then, I suppose I will just have to speak the way I want to speak." River took a deep breath, "I find it hard to believe that you have already singled me out as a trouble maker, especially based on information from another school but that is your prerogative. It does seem silly though that the reason I have been sent here, to your office, is because the DS couldn't break me down with pushups. I'm fit, sir and that is one of the things that makes me a good soldier." River leaned on the word, put some extra weight on it. "Your method of discipline is antiquated and inadequate, that is unless most of the Cadets here are weaklings. In which case, you are doing everything right."
Fraser's face turned crimson shocked at River's audacity.
"Fine, Winchester. We have other methods of punishment."
River shrugged. Laps? Extra homework? Take away the non-existent sound system in his room? There was nothing Fraser could do. River cared nothing about MMA or Fraser or anything else except looking for a ghost that may or may not be here at this school. He hadn't expected getting in trouble for not having his uniform correct but their constant and ludicrous bullshit on the damn subject just made him angrier and more stubborn not to conform. He hadn't cursed anyone, hadn't slugged anyone, hadn't bothered anyone but here he was standing at Attention in the Commandant's office because he refused to follow their damn marching ant mentality.
Fraser tightened his lips and furrowed his brows then gave River a withering look. "This is not charades, Cadet. Do not shrug your shoulders at me. I did not give you the order 'At ease' so you are to remain at Attention until I tell you otherwise." His voice wasn't raised but River could hear the warning.
"Yes, sir."
Fraser turned again toward the window, taking a few deep breaths but seemed composed and resolute.
River stood.
It felt like forever, River rolled his shoulders, fairly confident that Fraser couldn't see, since he was in the opposite direction. While the pushups hadn't bothered him, his shoulders were stiff from standing at Attention and River had never been particularly patient.
Nor prone to keep his mouth shut.
"Sir, may I be dismissed?"
"Did I say so?"
"No, sir."
"Well then, you have your answer."
Fraser left the window and went to sit down at his desk. He pulled a file out and began reading it. River was facing him, not five feet in front of him, still at Attention and getting angrier by the minute. He was trying to help this moron out, even though the dumb shit didn't know it. He had a job to do, and standing in front of Fraser AT ATTENTION for what appeared to be going for an eternity was not what he had in mind for the night.
River sighed in frustration, "Sir."
Fraser stood and growled. "Are you dim witted boy?"
River tuned his face to Fraser's, River's blue eyes finding the older man's slate gray.
Eyeballing your CO was a dumb move.
He didn't care.
"I am not dim witted, nor am I 'damaged' as the DS stated earlier. I am however tired and I've had enough."
"Hardly, young man. You were sent here to be disciplined and I was expecting only keep you at Attention for a bit, make you learn a little respect, however, you apparently seem to think that I will tolerate this insubordination. I assure you - I will not."
River sighed again.
Fraser rose from his desk and headed to a dark wood closet that although River had seen, he hadn't recognized it as a closet. It had been cleverly built into the wall and with the kind of carpentry that had long since vanished with the horse and buggy. River could only see Fraser's back, but the man was obviously thinking about something, making a determination. He made his decision and reached in the closet then turned to River.
To River's amazement he held what looked like a light tan stick.
"I'm quite sure you are not familiar with this, if you were I imagine your behavior would be better than it is."
River tilted his head quizzically. Most definitely not Attention.
"This," said Fraser, "is known as a cane. Not really like a cane for walking you see, it's thin and this one especially is flexible. It is a means of discipline."
River narrowed his eyes. He'd heard of paddles, been smacked by a belt once in a while, spooned here and there, but most often his family tended to spank with their hands. He did remember once when Gramps was so mad he'd grabbed the clicker and tried to spank River with that. It didn't hold up well against River's hard Winchester ass. The TV had remained inoperable for a week unless someone would walk over to it and turn it on. In typical masculine fashion, no one wanted to, instead they spent the week scowling at the lack of a clicker, giving Gramps the stink eye and blaming River for it the whole time.
It didn't matter that Gramps was the one who tried wallop his ass with it.
But this?
Fraser swished it quickly through the air and although River didn't really hear it whistle, he thought maybe it did.
"Winchester, place yourself over the desk please."
"Sir?"
"The desk. Lean over it and present your rear end for punishment."
"Sir?"
Fraser glowered, "I know you say that you are not dumb, dim-witted or damaged but for the life of me, I seem to think there really is a problem." He continued on gesturing vaguely in River's direction, "You may keep your uniform on, although a part of me feels like since you have been unable to wear it correctly all day, losing your pants should not be a problem."
River thought quickly. Yes, he didn't care for Fraser, MMA or anything. Yes, he could walk out and keep on walking…but walking out would mean blowing his cover and he was far too good a hunter to do that. Besides in terms of physical punishment, he'd been spanked by all the Trio at some time since he joined this family. He'd never been spanked by a non-family member, unless you considered the time JR's dad walloped him and not one Winchester had begrudged Jeff Banner the ass kicking that he delivered to River, Jamie and his own son that night. No, Jeff Banner wasn't family but he was an honorary Winchester. He was also the local authority. Fraser was authority too, or at least authority at MMA but he wasn't authority as far as River was concerned. This was ridiculous. Then again, how bad could it be? He'd been whacked by the best.
So he stepped over to the desk, bent over and waited for Fraser to start smacking. River never liked waiting for a spanking, he figured no one he knew did, but this felt worse somehow. He was sprawled over the desk, palms open and resting on that solid mahogany when he noticed it. A plaque placed at what was eye level when leaning over Fraser's desk.
In Memory of Jeremiah MacDonald
Tragically lost to his family at MMA in the year of our Lord, 1896.
He was small and young but a good soldier.
Taken from these hallowed halls before his time at the age of eleven.
Rest in Peace, little brother.
The plaque was old, but as neatly polished and cared for as the others in the room. It seemed that a lot of the older plaques were placed lower than the newer ones but River figured with as many kids who had lived on this campus in the past hundred and twenty years of it's existence. It shouldn't be surprising that they were placed in this order. Despite his compromising position, he wondered about Jeremiah, poor kid died when he was eleven and in this hell hole….River jumped when the cane sliced across his buttocks. It literally took his breath away.
"A little warning would be nice," River ground out.
"A little less mouth would be better," Fraser growled.
River didn't move but instead braced himself for the next swish of cane on ass.
Fraser placed it directly below the first stripe, although how he knew where to place it, River couldn't guess. He wasn't naked and there was no visible stripe but apparently Fraser had done this more than once.
The third was the hardest. The switch crossed over the other two and at the meeting places where switchline met switchline. It was if scathing ball of fire had settled at those intersections. Oh the rest hurt alright and the last hurt the most but those two areas of double licking, small though they were hurt like a sonofabitch.
River blew hard through pursed lips, trying not to hyperventilate. He breathed deeply and once again his eyes caught Jeremiah's plaque. 1892. He hoped Jeremiah had never been subjected to an ass kicking like this! He'd just been a little kid!
“Cadet Winchester, you may get up and take yourself back to your quarters. Be thankful you only received three stripes, your behavior while just in this office warrants at least that, however, since this is your first day - I am being lenient. Against my better judgment, I might add. Mess hall will begin in exactly 43 minutes. Long enough for you to collect any missed work you may have had neglected to pick up. Please make sure you are properly dressed for dinner. Dismissed."
Fraser didn't say anything else but River decided another licking like the one he just got was going to be avoided at all cost. Fraser was by no means his father, or Uncle Dean or Gramps for that matter, but maybe because he wasn't any of those people, the spanking felt worse somehow. That was a strange situation because getting yelled at, spanked or hell even given the stink eye by his family always hurt. It hurt his heart . This spanking hurt only his ass and it felt like, since Fraser really had nothing invested in him, it was less painful in some ways but hurt more in others. If his father had spanked him, it would have been just as harder or harder physically but knowing that he did it BECAUSE he loved him made it both easier and more difficult in equal measure. River was so caught up in his own head with the philosophical discussions on spanking that he almost forgot to salute.
Almost.
But he didn't, mostly because although he called bullshit on the whole damn place, he was also not stupid and if it made Fraser happy to salute then River would.
Part 4 http://wildblueyonder6.livejournal.com/46496.html