WBY – Righting Reflex
Characters: Sam, Dean and John
Rating: Gen, PG
Summary: Sam lies. Dad doesn't appreciate being lied to.
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Sam is a pretty cautious boy. He thinks things through. He calculates. He likes to think he's pretty smart for a ten year old.
Well, he's certainly smart when compared to Dean. Not that Dean is dumb. He's not. It's just that Dean is the polar opposite of cautious. He is impulsive, random and prone to flying off the handle.
So they are two different kids.
But right now, Sam is not thinking he's smart. He's thinking he's pretty stupid. 'Cause he lied to Dad.
Lying to Dad is never good. Ever. Which is crazy because Dad is the one who taught Sam to lie but whatever.
And Sam lied, randomly and impulsively and that means he's dumbing down to Dean's level and that's scary. But again, Dean really isn't dumb; he just manages to get himself out of potentially dumb situations by thinking on his feet.
Dean does that a lot better than Sam. He's like a cat with nine lives. Sam struggles to remember what it is that makes a cat land on it's feet. He learned about it somewhere. He flips through the card catalogue that's his brain, stops at the correct file. The "Righting Reflex". That's it. Dean has a righting reflex that apparently skipped Sam because Sam never lands on his feet. At least not where Dad is concerned.
Sam calculates. Sam thinks. Sam evaluates the situation from every angle. Dean just somehow evades trouble with charm or good luck or something. It is that indefinable something that Sam doesn't have.
So if Dean had lied to Dad, well he probably could have gotten away with it but because Sam lied to Dad, well now he's waiting in his room to get his butt spanked.
There is no doubt it's gonna happen. Dad doesn't tolerate lying to him at all. It really wasn't even a big lie, but Dad doesn't see it that way. There are no shades of gray as far as Dad and lying is concerned. Some people talk about "white" lies, but in Sam's somewhat limited experience lying to Dad is never white. It is always black and always ends the same way, with Sam over Dad's hard lap getting his butt smacked.
Dean is laying on the bed next to him, playing with a balled up piece of paper. It is amusing him to know end. He throws it up, catches it and then throws it up again.
Once again, Sam thinks of a cat. Playing with a cat toy. Dean and all his cat-like reflexes, Sam and lumbering stupidity. Which isn't really fair, 'cause he's getting a little better. A little quicker, even sparring is progressing. Not as good as Dean but…that is never gonna happen.
"So, little brother…what made you wanna make Dad go all agro on your ass."
Sam sighs, "He hasn't yet, Dean. Maybe he won't."
Dean smirks, "Yeah, you just hold onto that thought, kiddo."
They both turn toward the sound of their father walking up the steps. "And that's my cue to cut and run. Good luck, Sammy." He pitches the ball of paper across the room and it neatly falls into the trashcan.
Dean opens the door before his father can knock. "Hey Dad, take it easy on the twerp."
Dad rolls his eyes, "Believe, me Dean. Your brother will survive."
"Yeah but look at the kid, Dad." Dean motions toward Sam. Sam doesn't think he looks any worse than any other time he is waiting for a spanking. It's just this time – well – it was so dumb. He was so dumb.
"Get out of here, Dean." John grumbles and Dean obliges with a picture perfect salute. He spins and John turns to smack his ass. John just misses and once again Sam wishes he had those cat reflexes.
John leans on the door jam and Sam can't escape his father's dark gaze.
"M' sorry, Dad."
"It's not like you Sammy. Lying like this. Over something so damn stupid. "
"Jeeze, Dad. I know. It was dumb. I was dumb. I'm sorry. Just…just spank me and get it over with okay?"
John narrows his gaze, "Is that an attitude I hear, boy? 'Cause attitude is not smart when I'm fixing to bust your butt."
Sam takes a deep breath. " No, sir. Not attitude. Just me feeling dumb. Please Dad, I hate just hanging around here waiting for the butt smacking to start."
"Well, that's good to know, Sammy. It's that kind of ammunition that I can use later on down the road. You know, for the next butt whipping. Maybe I'll keep you waiting a bit next time."
"Daaad."
"Okay. Let's go." John steps in the rest of the way into the room and settles on Dean's bed. He pats his lap purposefully.
Sam groans but walks over to his father and dutifully places himself over his lap. Undignified. That's what this is. Barbaric and undignified.
That's all he gets to think before Dad starts spanking his butt. Obviously, Dad doesn't want to play games anymore, he wants Sam crying and miserable pretty damn fast. Which is just fine with Sam because the quicker he cries, the quicker it will be over. But Sam can be emotional sometimes and sometimes he cries almost before they get started. He can't help it and even Dean doesn't call him on it. So crying isn't the only criteria for the spanking to stop. Dad just has a built in "spanking his kid" time clock that only he listens to. Usually it's directly proportional to the crime but sometimes it has to do with how mad he is. Dad doesn't appear to be too mad this time, more like it's a job he has to do.
Sam lied. Dad spanks.
So it's over pretty quick.
Sam's butt burns. He wants to rub out the sting but Dad doesn't like that. Well, Dad won't care if he can't see so if the man would just leave the room, Sam could rub and cry all he wants. But Dad wants to stay.
"Son, you know why it's important to tell me the truth."
"Yes, sir."
"I have to be sure you are one hundred percent truthful with me all the time. I'm not saying you will be able to do it, but you gotta know, I can't let you get away with lying to me."
"Yes, Dad. I got it." Sam kind of sobs when he says it. He doesn't want to but his butt is on fire.
"Okay kiddo. Come on downstairs when you have yourself together. It doesn't need to be right away though. Take your time." Dad says it softly and then leaves. He shuts the door with a quiet snick.
Once the door is shut Sam drops his jeans and rubs his butt, right over his underwear. It hurts to rub but it also feels better. Which is odd but it is true. Truthful, not lying. Not lying again. Sam thinks, his neurons still not functioning at a high level. Sam thinks it's because all the blood rushes to his head when he is over his father's lap. It does something to his brain.
Not that his brain was functioning well earlier in the day.
Well crap.
He throws himself on his bed and cries into his pillow. Still is crying when Dean comes in and settles himself on his own bed.
"Dude, you okay?"
"I'm good."
"Yeah, 'cause you sound so damn fine."
"Yeah, well I am just…just leave me alone."
"Okay." Dean sounds just a bit hurt. Which is stupid because Dean didn't just get his ass beat.
Sam turns to look at Dean. Dean laces his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry, Dean. It's not your fault."
"Dude. No worries. Dad's ass kickings tend to make you a little nuts. I got it."
"Still…" Sam starts.
"Shut up, Sam."
And Sam does.
End.