"Ow! Holy—OWWWW! Henryyyyy! Stop! Owww!"
"Oh, stop whining and hold still! You brought this on yourself, and you know it, so you might as well shut up and let me get this over with—it's going to happen." Hank said this without breaking his rhythm, working over his brother's reddened bottom, refusing to be diverted by Evan's squirming and protests. He shook his head at the pitiful sight before him; he didn't actually like causing Evan pain (okay, mostly… okay, it depended on the day) but sometimes, like now, it couldn't be helped. "You know, we wouldn't be here right now if you would just stop and think once in awhile."
"What—AH! What the heck ar—ARRGH!—you talking about? Everytime—OW!—I stop to think, you get maAAAAACK—mad at me! Would you hiss make up your mi—SON OF A—mind already?"
Hank could hear actual tears in his wayward brother's voice, and his heart and jaw clenched. He really hoped that Evan was learning his lesson, because Hank was going to have to wrap this up soon; neither of them could take much more of this.
When the deepest red portions of flesh were shining, Hank stopped, taking a moment to shake out and flex his tired right hand. Evan didn't seem to notice at first that it was done, so Hank gave him some time to pull himself together before the older brother started to help his younger brother to his feet.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Evan's voice was a little unsteady, but he was determined to make himself heard. He resisted his brother's efforts to lever him up, much to Hank's surprise and confusion.
"What, you actually like being bare-butt over my knee?"
"Dude! No! But it's better than being bare… everything standing in front of you! Seriously!"
Hank rolled his eyes. "Evan, come on—I'm your brother, and I'm a doctor! It's not like I haven't seen it all before!"
"Dude, that is so wrong!" Evan reached out, scrabbling around with his fingers until he hooked onto a throw on the couch; he quickly grasped it in both hands and draped it back over his exposed skin before working to stand, accepting Hank's help this time and swiftly wrapping the fabric around his waist before standing upright. He spun on his heel, dropped the throw, and tugged up his shorts and khakis with a pained hiss, only turning back around after fastening his pants and tossing up a brief thought of gratitude that he wasn't big on tucking in shirts. He didn't really feel like looking at his brother, so he kept his head down until Hank, who was now standing, reached out and gently raised his chin.
"Hey. You okay?" Evan nodded, using the movement to escape his brother's hand. "You sure? I know it hurts, and you're probably embarrassed."
That revived the younger man. "Oh, ya think? Like you cared about me being embarrassed ten minutes ago. Or maybe, I don't know, you just like it that way."
Hank's eyes widened at the unexpected outburst; he and his brother had had their arguments before, but of the two, he himself was more apt to pitch a verbal fit. He guessed this meant that Evan was really upset, and Hank started to feel a little guilty, which of course he couldn't show. Evan was his little brother and couldn't be allowed to think that he had the power to make Hank feel guilty. "Get real, Evan—you wouldn't be embarrassed if you hadn't been acting dumb in the first place! Besides, it was kinda funny, you have to admit…" Hank started to snicker again.
Evan's eyes narrowed. "It was not! Fine, you try it and see how funny it is then!" He took a few steps backward and then turned to leave.
"Never gonna happen!" Hank half-yelled after his brother. "I wear pants that fit!" As Evan disappeared, Hank shook his head and turned to clean up the area. He made a mental note to have the throw laundered as he straightened the couch pillows and then grabbed the aloe cream off of the coffee table. It wasn't the best for the situation, but it was all he'd had on hand, and he'd been too pressed for time (and, okay, too busy laughing at his brother) to see if they had the ingredients for a better burn salve. Well, he supposed he knew what he'd be doing this afternoon, then, although that meant that they were going to have to go out for dinner because Hank knew that he himself wouldn't be able to stand the smell in the kitchen long enough to cook actual food tonight. He sighed to himself. He supposed it was a little bit wrong of him to be so amused by his brother's pain, but really, wasn't that sort of his job as the older brother? Hmmmm. He wondered if he should charge Evan for the consultation and treatment.
Just then, he heard a yelp and a bitten-off curse from the direction of his brother's room. No, that wouldn't be cool. It wasn't every day that someone got themselves a second-degree sunburn on their butt, and all plumber's-crack jokes aside, it wasn't really fair of him to torment Evan for not thinking to put sunscreen where his clothing should have covered, especially not when Hank had seen the beginnings of blisters. Oh, sure, he would tease him some more, and maybe needle him into eating more, since apparently Evan was losing weight (which was weird) and his clothes were starting to gap in the back, but Hank wasn't going to be cruel.
He'd just finished socking the burn cream away in the bathroom and mentally cataloguing what he'd need to make some salve when he heard the voices of Divia and Emily coming into the house. Hmmm. What was going to happen when they saw Evan and realized that something was wrong? Hank already knew that he wasn't going to tell either of the girls what was going on—doctor/patient confidentiality, and all that. Heh. At least they only had to worry about the girls; his father wasn't the observant type, and though Hank was starting to hope that Evan never realized it, the older man wasn't likely to care even if he clued in to the awkwardness.
A couple of hours later, Hank went upstairs to tell his brother that they were going to have dinner at a casual restaurant (and to let him know that the new salve would be cooled and ready before they went to bed that night) and what he heard left anger burning in his veins.