The Price of Friendship
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Cry Wolf, and I'm not making any money from this fic. The plot of this story belongs to me, I guess
Summary: After Owen is released from prison without charges, he runs into Tom again – who feels bad about the 'game' and wants to extend the hand of friendship. No slash
Warning(s): Spanking; mentions of violence/murder; spoilers; possible ooc:ness; possible mistakes in the canon; some swearing
Author's Note: Part of the reason for writing this was simply because I adore Jared Padalecki (who plays Tom). I also think he should feel bad about contributing to the game and subsequent shooting. Really, Dodger's probably the one who deserves the spanking more – but she is a murderer. Also, apologies for this fic being so short
"O-Man!"
Owen jerked slightly at the voice that echoed in his ears even from across the street. For a moment, he paused, closing his eyes, hoping that the owner of the voice would go away, or that he'd just imagined it.
There was no such luck. Opening his eyes again found Tom making his way swiftly across the road towards him, hardly glancing around enough to check that there were no cars approaching.
What's he doing? Owen wondered. The last thing he wanted to do was meet any of the so-called 'friends' who had played the game of The Wolf, and subsequently caused the death of a teacher.
Admittedly, a teacher who'd been screwing a student as well as a townie, but still…
For some reason, though, Owen didn't move; didn't run away. Tom looked the same as he always had – except there was something in his face, something that Owen didn't recognise. But it stayed his feet, stopped him from fleeing like a frightened animal. Perhaps some small measure of hope was what was causing it.
Tom reached him, and lifted a hand as if to give Owen a high-five. "Hey, man. What's up?"
Owen just stared at him. "Did you really want me to answer that?" He made no attempt to take Tom's hand, or reach out to the other in any way.
Tom dropped his hand, his expression uncertain – which was unusual for him. There was an awkward silence. Then, "Dodger misses you, ya know…"
"Sure she does." Owen couldn't stop a bitter laugh from escaping him. What, does she want me to kill someone else for her? Forget it; I'm not falling for her games again. He was no longer that innocent knight in shining armour.
"Dude, what happened?" Tom demanded. "How could you get so freaked out by all of that? It was really just a game… Just a joke."
"Is that what you think?" Owen asked. Looking into Tom's eyes, he had his answer. He and the others were taken in by Dodger, just like I was. Still, that didn't mean that Tom shouldn't have known when to stop. There had been a certain point where the game had become real – and Tom and the others had crossed it.
Tom looked away, unable to meet Owen's gaze. "Look, man – I'm sorry," he said. "I honestly… I mean, I know we went a little too far. I was kind of hoping to see you around again."
"Why? So that you could make fun of me? What are you doing out of class anyway?"
"It's the weekend," Tom reminded him. "I'm heading up to the Lake House, but I've got…" He glanced at his watch. "About an hour before I'm supposed to meet them, so that should be more than enough time."
"For what?" Owen frowned, feeling suspicious.
"Come with me." Without waiting for any kind of response, Tom started walking, barely glancing behind him to check that Owen was following.
After a moment, Owen walked after Tom.
"Huh… I know it's here somewhere…" Tom started rifling through his pockets as he and Owen stood in front of a semi-detached house. Finally, he produced a key. "Got it!" he said triumphantly, and immediately unlocked the front door.
"What are we doing here?" Owen asked, a little warily – and no surprise there.
"You'll see," Tom promised, even as he stepped inside the house, leaving the door open for Owen.
This is probably a really bad idea… "Dodger isn't in there, is she?" Owen called, suddenly feeling worried.
"Nah." Tom's voice floated back to him. "Come in. Make yourself at home. Grab a beer or whatever."
Owen hesitated further – but he couldn't deny the faint feeling of curiosity that filled him. Besides… Tom has a temper and can be a jerk – but I'm pretty sure he's not capable of actually killing someone, and he might really regret what happened… Taking a deep breath, Owen entered the house, and closed the door behind him. At least I have my cell phone, in case something does happen.
Tom came out of the kitchen, proffering a glass of what looked like beer to Owen. He refused, and, shrugging, Tom went into the living room, setting the beer down on the coffee table.
Owen followed him into the room. "So… What am I doing here?" he asked, taking a glance around.
Instead of answering Owen's question, Tom asked one of his own: "Hey, O-Man… Have you ever been spanked?"
Owen frowned. What a question to ask… I guess it's some kind of joke. He was about to try to say something humorous in response, but then realised that Tom – unusually enough – appeared to be deadly serious. "No… Why?"
"I have," Tom said slowly. "My dad used to all the time. Spank me, I mean. Sometimes with his hand; other times with his belt. It was usually for losing my temper, and sometimes for doing stupid things."
Owen shook his head. "I don't get it."
Tom indicated the coffee table, and a closer look revealed to Owen that there was a well-worn, brown leather belt lying across it. Much to his dismay, Owen felt that he really was beginning to understand what Tom meant.
"What's that for?"
"I'm sure you know." Tom picked up the belt with what looked like a shudder. "Like I said… I was spanked for doing stupid things. I would think that the whole game counts as that… Wouldn't you?"
Owen shook his head. "What is this, some kind of sick fantasy? Are you going to get off on this or something?"
"I wish." Tom gave a harsh laugh. "I feel bad for the part I played in all of this. You could have ended up in prison for who knows how long – you came so close to getting your whole life ruined. Compared to that? A spanking is nothing – but it's all I can give you." Tom held out the belt to Owen.
Owen's first instinct was to refuse to take the belt; to turn round and run like hell out of the house. Instead, he took the belt with something like fascination, feeling the smooth leather, imagining what it would be like for someone to feel it across their butt innumerable times. He could well imagine Tom bent over to receive the belt from his dad.
I guess he really does want to make things right…
"Bend over and put your hands on the couch," Owen said softly, doubling the belt over in his fist. Strange how he seemed to know instinctively how to do this. Maybe everyone had the capability to spank someone…?
Tom looked as if he might want to protest, apparently suddenly unsure of this. Instead, he turned, and did as Owen had directed.
What prompted him to do this…? Owen wondered, even as he set the doubled-over belt against the seat of Tom's jeans, gauging the angle. Somewhere from deep within him came the answer, one that Owen wasn't even sure about.
Friendship.
Owen shook his head slightly, and then drew the belt back before bringing it down again. Hard. Tom grunted, and ducked his head, drawing his breath in sharply. "Shit… That hurt worse than I remembered."
Owen didn't know what to say. But Tom wasn't attempting to stand up, and so he brought the belt down again, just as hard. Then again. And again.
How do I know when enough is enough…? What if I lose control and seriously hurt Tom?
Despite the thoughts going through his mind, Owen continued bringing the belt down across Tom's bottom. He worked his way from the top of the other's bottom down to the tops of his thighs, and, after a few minutes of that, he could hear Tom's breath beginning to hitch, and small sobs were forcing their way out.
Owen didn't let up on the force of the blows, though. He doggedly continued, listening as small sobs gave way to bigger sobs. Finally, he saw Tom put his head down and just sob – and Owen knew that that was it. The sign to stop.
Owen brought the belt down once more – harder than before – and then stopped, letting the belt drop from nerveless fingers. Only then did he realise that he was panting as though he had just run a marathon.
A little hesitantly, Owen reached out a hand to rub soothing circles on Tom's back. "It's all right. It's over now." What was he supposed to do? Hug him? Was it even 'cool' for two guys to hug? Tom was still crying, but the intensity was beginning to slow.
Owen sank down onto the couch, and pulled Tom into an embrace, deciding that he didn't care what the other thought. Any feelings of rage he'd had for Tom were now gone, and Owen could realise the truth in the little voice that had bubbled up inside his mind with the answer to the question.
"It's all right," Owen repeated. "We're friends again now. You made a mistake and you paid for it – so it's all over." The words came from somewhere deep inside him and spilled forth with hardly any encouragement.
Gradually, Tom's crying slowed and stopped, and he slowly straightened, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. "Man… That wasn't cool. Let's not tell the others about what happened here, okay?"
Owen regarded his friend for a moment, and then came to a decision. "We need to talk."