Summary: My take on what would have happened after Tim caught Pony and Curly playing chicken with the cigarettes. Warning: Contains spanking of minors
Curly sat outside the Curtis house with Ponyboy. Their older brothers were having some meeting about gang stuff and neither boy had been invited to join. That really pissed Curly off, he was just as much a member of this damned gang as anyone else, and Tim needed to realize it.
Pony didn't seem to have the same qualms about being left out as Curly did. He was trying to cheer the Shepard boy up.
"Come on Curly, why don't we do something?" Pony asked, looking over at his friend who was lying on the lawn next to him.
Curly was about to say no, he would like to pout, thank you very much, but then had a better idea. "Yeah, sure. How 'bout we play a game?" he said grinning a little.
Pony looked at him nervously, not trusting the look on his face. "Like what?"
"Like chicken." Curly said, pulling two cigarettes out of his pocket. Pony looked hesitant.
"I dunno, Curly, Darry would kill me. And I don't think Tim would be too happy with you."
"What? You scared of your big brother?" Curly sneered.
"No!" Pony immediately defended.
"Then do it." Curly lit one of the cigarettes and handed it to Pony. He knew he was goading the kid into this, and to be honest he was just doing this because he was pissed with Tim, but he didn't want to think too hard about that.
Pony took the offered cigarette and Curly lit up the other one. "Alright, on the count of three." He said, holding up his finger and the cigarette. Pony did the same. "One… Two… Three!" They pressed the hot embers against the other person's pointer fingers, each wincing in pain.
Curly's finger instantly felt like it was on fire. He was sweating and panting, wanting more than anything to pull away. But he couldn't. He couldn't lose chicken, least of all to this wuss Curtis kid. Although, Pony looked like he was in as bad shape as Curly was.
Just as Curly felt like he couldn't stand it any longer, and Pony looked ready to quit too, both boys were grabbed by their collars and yanked apart. They dropped their cigarettes in shock, but their relief was short lived when they saw the person holding them in a vise like grip. Tim's pissed off expression greeted the teens.
"What the hell are you two morons doing?" Tim hollered, giving them a shake. "Inside, now!" He pushed the boy's ahead of him into the house.
Darry stood in the living room, having heard the commotion. He looked confused as Tim led the boys to the couch, shoving them onto the couch. Tim wasn't really prone to being upset about things, so whatever Pony and Curly had done must've been bad.
"You wanna tell your brother what you two were doin'?" Tim said to Pony.
Pony squirmed in his seat, but under withering glares from both Tim and Darry, he fessed up. "Me and Curly were playing chicken."
Darry's eyes widened. "You were what? How stupid are you Pony?" he immediately launched into a lecture. Pony looked chagrined as his ear was chewed off while Curly rolled his eyes. He looked at his burnt finger, picking at the mark. Tim reached down and stopped his brother from messing with it.
"C'mon, we're going home." Tim said quietly to Curly, as to not interrupt Darry's lecturing of Pony.
Curly reluctantly followed him brother out of the safety of the Curtis house and into their car. He slumped down in the passenger seat as Tim started driving them towards home.
"Why do you have to be so damned stupid sometimes, Curly?" Tim said, shaking his head. Curly rolled his eyes.
"I wouldna been playing if you'd let me in on that meeting." he complained.
"Is that what this is about? You pulled a dumbass stunt like that because your pissy with me for making you wait outside? Goddammit Curly, you can't just do shit like that because you don't get your way." Tim looked even angrier.
His brother's anger did nothing to squash his own, in fact it made his worse. "Ya know what? Fuck off Tim, I'm sick of being treated like some little kid. You try to tell me what to do. You don't let me in the meetings. And now you're thinkin' you can lecture me about playing chicken? That's bullshit."
Tim reached over and smacked Curly's head hard enough to rattle his teeth. "You'd better watch your mouth, boy." he growled. Something about being called 'boy' made Curly's little temper tantrum get even worse. He was 12 years old, dammit, he wasn't some little kid. Besides, Tim was only 17, he wasn't the boss of Curly.
Curly angrily kicked the dashboard of Tim's car.
"Knock it off." Tim warned. Curly scowled at him and kicked it again, even harder.
"Charles, I'm warning you, you'd better cut that crap out or I swear I will pull this car over and deal with you here and now."
Curly gulped a little. He knew Tim never gave idle threats, and the fact that they were in the middle of a neighborhood where anyone could see him get his ass kicked wouldn't deter his brother. He decided to change tactics.
"Tiiimmmm," he whined, "it's not fair. I didn't do nothing that bad."
Tim shot him a disbelieving look. "You nearly burnt your damn finger off, kid. This is one of the dumbest things you've done."
"It was just a game. And I almost won." Curly hoped that nearly beating the Curtis kid would lighten his brother's mood. No such luck.
"Games don't leave you scarred, young man. And I don't give a damn who won." Tim pulled them up to their house and stopped the car. "Get inside and go to your room."
Curly quickly left the car and went inside. He briefly considered disobeying and not going to his room, just to prove the point that Tim couldn't tell him what to do, but he figured there was no where else to go instead of his bedroom. So, he went to his room.
Curly flopped back on his bed, thinking to himself that this was all so unfair. He was in deep shit with his big brother just for doing something that tons of other kids do. Hell, he'd seen boys in their gang doing it all the time. And Tim didn't give them any shit for it.
He heard his brother come inside, and then the sounds of him looking around for something downstairs. It was moments like these that Curly wished it wasn't just him and Tim at home. Their dad had skipped town years ago and their mother was off on some bender somewhere like usual. If there was someone else at home Tim would have someone else to focus his attention on. As it was, Curly was the only one ever on the receiving end of Tim's scrutiny.
Curly didn't have to wait long for Tim to come up to his room. When he entered, he was holding a first aid kit in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. Curly wasn't looking forward to either.
"Tim! No!" he complained, sitting up. Tim raised an eyebrow at him.
"Which are you saying no to? Me cleaning the burn or giving you a well earned spanking? Because both are happening, little boy."
Curly blushed at the blunt statement. "Timmy, come on, I'm not a kid anymore, you can't do that."
Tim snorted. "You're 12, Curls, you're still a kid. And you'll always be a kid to me, so I'll always be able to do this. Now let me see your finger."
Tim sat down on the desk chair and gestured for Curly to give him his hand. Curly pouted and stubbornly refused, cradling his hand to his chest. "No."
"Curly, I don't have time for this." Tim sighed. "Give me the hand so we can get on with this." Curly shook his head again. He didn't want his finger cleaned and he certainly didn't want a spanking.
"Charles," Tim's voice dropped a bit and became much more intimidating, "give me your damn hand, right now. I won't have you gettin' an infection because you were being a stubborn brat."
Curly reluctantly stuck his hand out and gave his brother the injured finger. He winced as Tim opened a container of burn medicine and applied it. The older Shepard diligently applied the necessary aid, then proceeded to wrap up the sore appendage in a bandage.
After he was finished playing doctor, Tim put the first aid supply to the side and fixed his little brother with a stern look. "Alright, time to talk about today."
Curly pouted at that. "Can't we just forget about it, Timmy?" he whined.
"No, we cannot just forget about it. You, young man, are in deep trouble." Tim said firmly.
Curly huffed and slouched on the bed, arms crossed. "This is such shit."
Curly found himself on his feet a moment later, tucked under his brother's arm. Tim landed half a dozen quick smacks on the seat of his jeans.
"Tim! Lemme go!" Curly yelped, squirming. Tim released him and literally wagged a threatening finger at the preteen (if Curly wasn't so pissed about his butt he'd find that gesture hilarious).
"Boy, you better watch your language. I'm not gonna tell you again." Curly glared at his older brother, rubbing his sore bottom.
"Now, sit your ass back down so we can chat." Tim pointed at the bed and Curly sat down gingerly.
Curly always detested this part, where they'd go over what happened and Tim would lecture him. He'd much rather they skip to the ass kicking part.
"What were you thinking? You must've known I would be furious when I caught you." Tim said, looking genuinely confused with the younger boy's stupidity.
"Maybe I didn't think I would get caught." Curly shrugged. Tim rolled his eyes in mock amusement.
"Really? You didn't think I would notice a big burn on your finger?"
Curly looked down, fiddling with his bed cover. "I dunno, maybe. Besides, I dunno why I can't play chicken."
Tim reached out and tilted the boy's chin up. "Because you got hurt, that's why. You know how I feel about things that get you hurt."
"Yeah, I know." Curly mumbled.
"So why'd you do it, kiddo?" Tim asked. Curly felt a little guilt ebb in when he saw the look on the older one's face, he looked much softer and concerned.
"I was mad." Curly bit his bottom lip, feeling childish for his reasonings.
"Mad? Was this about the meeting?" Tim looked a little irritated at that. "Because I wouldn't let you in on it?"
"Well that wasn't fair, Tim! I shoulda been allowed in the meeting. I'm not a little kid." Curly grumbled.
Tim had lost his guilt inducing kind look and it was replaced with a pissed expression. "You are a little boy. More importantly, you're my little boy, so I get to decide what meetings you can and cannot come in on. Just because you're pissed with me about my decision, doesn't mean you get to do something dangerous. That doesn't show me that you're old enough to come into meetings with adults, it shows me that I should be leaving you at home with a babysitter." he scolded.
Curly gaped at him. "Babysitter?! Tim!" he instantly protested. Tim hadn't made him have a babysitter since he was 10. God, that would be mortifying.
"If you can't behave yourself when I leave you alone for less than an hour, you'll have to have a sitter." Tim said, not budging.
Curly felt tears prickle his eyes. "You're being a jerk!" he yelled, standing up and trying to make his way out of the room.
Tim grabbed the boy's arm. "You don't talk to me like that, Charles." he tugged the boy back over to him so he was standing in between his older brother's knees.
"You don't tell me what to do!" Curly snapped, trying to tug away.
Tim frowned and pulled the young teen over his lap. "I do tell you what to do, young man. I'm the older brother, so I'm the one in charge." he reached under the boy and undid his pants while Curly thrashed around and tried to get away. Tim easily yanked down his pants and underwear.
"Tim please! Don't!" Curly yelled. Tim ignored him and began swatting on the bared bottom.
Curly did not take this without a protest. He yelled and kicked as much as he could while Tim methodically turned his backside a rosy color.
"You do not do dangerous things because you're pissed with me." Tim lectured as he raised his knee a bit to spank his thighs.
"Alright, I won't!" Curly attempted to toss his hand back to cover his increasingly hot ass, but it was caught and pinned to his back. He started crying at that, hating having his arm restricted.
Tim nodded once. "Good boy." he picked up the hairbrush that he'd brought with him, tapping the kid's bottom in warning of what's to come. Curly made a small whimpering noise in response before the brush was brought down in a sharp smack.
Curly yelped loudly with the first swat and got progressively louder as they continued to rain on his upturned butt.
"You also do not get to give me the attitude you have been today." Tim continued his scolding. Curly started sobbing as his bottom was turned a deeper red. He knew how much his brother hated when he gave him any sort of attitude, so this was gonna be a rough one.
Tim gave him a total of thirty swats with the brush. By the end, Curly was a sobbing mess, just lying limp over the man's knees. His backside was a bright cherry red and it stung a considerable amount.
Tim gently tugged the teen's boxers up, although they left the pants off, and slowly helped him up. He lifted the boy so he was sitting on his lap. Tim wrapped his arms tightly around the boy as said kid clung to him. Curly bawled into his big brother's shirt as Tim rubbed a hand up and down his back comfortingly.
"Timmy that hurt." Curly cried, hiding his face in the crook of Tim's neck. Tim nodded, making soothing noises.
"I know, buddy. You're okay, I got you." Tim kissed Curly's hair. Curly sniffled and rubbed his eyes.
"Didn't mean to be mean to you." the boy whimpered.
"That's alright, baby boy, I know you didn't You're all forgiven now." Curly had to admit he liked these moments, when it was just the two of them and Tim was being real gentle and nice.
"You're not mad?" Curly asked, yawning.
Tim smiled fondly, stroking his brother's hair. "Not mad, sweetheart. When have I ever been able to stay mad with you?"
Curly shrugged slightly, yawning once again. "Need a nap?" Tim asked fondly. Curly didn't reply, because he'd already started to doze off on Tim's shoulder. Tim chuckled and decided rather than move Curly he'd just lie with him on the bed. The older brother rubbed the younger ones back soothingly as he slept peacefully, albeit sore.