Darry was standing in front of the couch with his arms crossed by the time Sodapop made it the bottom of the stairs. The fifteen-year-old was more defiant than Ponyboy was – by a long shot – so Darry couldn't always be so warm with him. If he didn't start the punishment with a stern face, Soda would start trying to take advantage of his kindness.
"Sit," Darry directed sternly, nodding towards the couch. He hated that he had to be so harsh with Soda, but a lot of the time the kid didn't give him much of a choice.
"Obviously," the boy grumbled as he flopped down on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, "I always have to sit on the couch."
"Yeah, that's 'cause you're always in trouble," Darry retorted, moving to take his position on the coffee table in front of his brother.
Sodapop and Ponyboy said that if it ever fell in one day when he went to sit on it, then he'd have to let them off with whatever they'd done. Darry agreed. Fortunately, it had yet to happen.
"'Cause you're always overreacting," Soda shot back, glaring down at his lap with a frown. Teenage angst oozed out of every part of him.
"I'm overreacting because y'all were fucking around and broke a six hundred dollar TV?" Darry asked sternly, furrowing his eyebrows, "Do you have that kind of money to buy another one?"
After a pause and a put upon sigh, he responded dejectedly, "No," he grumbled before glaring up at his big brother through his eyelashes, "But you do."
Between the smug tone of his voice and the smart-ass look he gave him, it took everything Darry had not to grab his little brother by the neck at that moment. Sodapop had a very smart mouth and a lot of pent-up anger and he tended to push Darry to his breaking point, but Darry'd gotten better at stopping himself from snapping at him.
"Or I could just take the one out of your room and put it down here," Darry offered nonchalantly, shrugging, "It's not quite as big, but it would work. Save me six hundred dollars, too."
It was a completely empty threat. Soda's TV was the only thing he had left since he'd been grounded and honestly, Darry didn't have the energy to take it out of his room and deal with the bitch fit that would be thrown if he did. Still, watching Sodapop's eyes widen in horror was a little too satisfying for Darry. It was nice to know that he always had the upper hand.
"You can't do that!" he exclaimed, pushing himself up so he was no longer slouching, "You've already grounded me from all of my other stuff! You can't take my TV, too."
"The only reason you're still grounded is that you don't know how to stop smartin' off for more than five god damn seconds," Darry countered, leaning forward as an intimidation tactic. Darry never wanted either of his brothers to be afraid of him, but when they were in trouble he needed to make sure they knew how easily they could be turned over his knee. Especially Sodapop, because he liked to get bold.
As expected, Sodapop shrunk back, so Darry continued, "One week, Sodapop. I want one week of somewhat decent behavior from you, and that includes no talking back, and you'll be ungrounded. I don't expect perfection from you, and you know that. I just want you to not force me to yell at you for one week and you're still acting like I'm asking too much of you. Do you think I like you being grounded? Do you think this is fun for me?"
"Bet you like it more than I do," he muttered, going back to glaring at the floor. His face was sullen but his eyes were fiery and it was clear that it was taking a lot out of him not to smart off any more than he already was.
"Then behave!" Darry raised his voice before he could stop himself. It had been a long day and he wasn't able to be as patient with Soda as he usually was. The kid could be an asshole, but Darry knew he wasn't like that deep down so he tried to refrain from being too harsh with him. He was still sensitive as hell; he just didn't act like it.
Sodapop flinched, shrinking in on himself. Despite the tough act, he hated to be yelled at and whenever Darry genuinely hollered at him he'd bawl like a baby. That was one thing that hadn't changed and even though it would probably be a good tactic to keep Sodapop in line, yelling at him wasn't how he wanted to get his little brother to behave.
Darry took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing in a lower voice, "Do you know why you're in trouble, Sodapop?"
"Yes," Sodapop replied simply, not elaborating any further. He'd recovered from Darry's slight outburst and was back to being obnoxious.
With an annoyed glare, Darry gestured for his little brother to go on.
He rolled his eyes and gave a put upon sigh before he responded mechanically, "I'm in trouble because Pony and I were roughhousing in the living room and that isn't allowed."
The tone of his voice was so blatantly annoyed and defiant that it made Darry want to snatch him up again, but he refrained. He didn't bother reprimanding him for it, either. It's not like it would get him anything besides another argument, so he'd just take it out on his behind when the time came.
"Exactly," he said firmly, straightening up, "You could have hurt yourself or your brother and you did break something. A very expensive something, at that. That's not okay, Sodapop."
"I'm aware, Darry," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "We didn't do it on purpose."
"No, but you started roughhousing on purpose," Darry replied as he pushed himself up to stand, "Which resulted in the TV being broken."
Sodapop knew that when Darry stood up, only bad things followed, so he shrunk back into the couch, "Whatever," he grumbled quietly. Even though Darry could hear how nervous he suddenly was, the words were spoken with the same bratty tone everything else he'd been saying was. Even when he knew he was about to get spanked, he just couldn't stop himself.
"Up," Darry ordered simply, no longer wanting to waste his time bickering with the kid. They still had more to discuss, but it was easier to talk to Soda while he was over his knee. He was a lot less of a smartass with a warm behind.
Sodapop stood up, but immediately started to pull away when Darry grabbed him by the crook of his elbow, "Stop," he whined pitifully, trying to tug his arm out of his grip, "I don't need your help!"
Sodapop never wanted to feel like more of a child than he had to when he was being spanked, so he pretty much refused to have any help doing anything. He also did his best be stoic, but he always failed at that, too. No matter how hard he tried (and boy, did he try), he was always a mess of tears by the time he got off of Darry's lap, no matter the implement being used. He was more sensitive than he wanted to be, unfortunately, and Darry knew how much he hated himself for crying. It wasn't like Darry discouraged his tears, either. He'd told him a thousand times over that it was okay that he cried – he was supposed to, after all, but Soda never cared to hear it.
Darry remembered being like that when he was younger, so he understood, but he also understood how hard it was to keep your composure while getting your ass lit up. He got his last spanking when he was seventeen and even then, he still cried like a baby. Darry had always been a tough son of a bitch, so he could hardly expect to Soda to be stoic the entire time when not even he could. It was next to impossible – he just couldn't get his little brother to accept that.
Darry let Sodapop carry on with his need to feel independent, though, ignoring his attitude and letting go of his arm, "Alright, fine. Get your jeans down."
"I'm too old for this," he grumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down to his knees with an annoyed huff.
Darry'd had just about enough of the kid's attitude, but he knew it wouldn't be around for much longer so he continued to let it go. Sodapop should have realized by then that Darry was quietly taking note of all of his little smart-ass comments, annoyed sighs, huffs, and blatant disrespect, but he hadn't. He never did, really, but he always looked surprised when Darry told him to fetch a more severe implement than his actual offense had earned.
"You'll be too old for this when you stop misbehaving," Darry stated simply, taking his spot in the middle of the couch and patting his lap.
Sodapop knew what the gesture meant and he climbed over Darry's lap with a sigh, "Even when I do, you'll find something to spank me for."
Darry chuckled dryly as his younger brother got situated over his lap, shaking his head. He found it incredibly odd that Soda thought he enjoyed hurting him. Quite frankly, spanking his little brothers was Darry's least favorite thing to do, but he knew he had to do it. For some reason, though, the two of them acted like it was his favorite past time.
"You know the drill," Darry stated, wrapping an arm around him, "Keep still and keep your hands in front of you."
Sodapop cut him off with a groan, dramatically dropping his head against the couch, "If I know the drill then why are you telling me?"
He was completely vulnerable and in a terrible position to still be running his mouth, but Darry just used that to his advantage. He planted a sharp swat to the middle of his bottom, ignoring the surprised yelp it drew out of the teenager, "Obviously, you don't know because you are still. smarting. off!"
Each emphasized word was accompanied by heavy swats to the lower part of his behind and the first two were met with strained grunts, while the last one earned him a pained whimper. Sodapop shut up after that, folding his arms in front of him and burying his head in them. Darry would have appreciated an apology, but he figured it was better not to push for the time being. His kid would be plenty sorry by the time they were through.
"You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut," he said firmly, tightening his grip on his younger brother to keep him in place. Sodapop wasn't as much of a squirmer as Ponyboy was, but he was never perfectly still, either. "It always gets you in more trouble, Sodapop. Every single time."
When he was only met with silence again, Darry decided it was probably time to just get it over with. He'd go back to the talking portion once the defiance had been spanked out of Sodapop. It was always easier to get him to talk once they were about halfway finished.
Darry could tell by his body language that Sodapop was ready for him to start, too, so he patted his ass a couple of times in warning before beginning to methodically warm him up, landing swat after painful swat.
He always used his hand to warm the boys up before he spanked them, which was a method he'd learned from their father. It lessened the appearances of any marks that would be left from their spanking, which was important to Darry. He hated leaving any bruises on either of his boys, but sometimes when he was using a heavier implement, it was inevitable. Not jumping straight into the actual spanking helped avoid it, though.
Warm-up's also allowed the boys more time to think before their actual spanking starts and it got the tears flowing faster, which Darry viewed as a plus. He hardly based the end of a punishment on tears, because both of his brothers could be dramatic. He really did hate to see or hear them cry, but a crying boy tended to be a well-behaved boy. It may have hurt his heart a little, but it was always easier to punish them when they were crying and repentant from the earlier stages of the punishment instead of the later ones.
The biggest reason Darry always started with his hand was that he knew that it helped with the pain once he switched to an implement. For example: if he were to start spanking Pony or Soda with the hairbrush on untouched skin instead of skin that was already warmed up, it would hurt a hell of a lot more. Neither of the boys knew it, but he was really doing them a favor by prolonging their punishments. If he were to ever skip the warm-up stage, they'd probably be howling like dogs by the tenth swat.
The warm-up stage was easier for Sodapop than it was for Ponyboy, but that's because he didn't think as hard as his younger brother did. He tended to focus more on the pain itself than the reason for the pain until Darry started scolding him and making him answer questions. That was usually when the guilt started to catch up with him.
By the time they were finished this time around, Sodapop's breath was slightly labored and his toes were curled up. Darry knew his eyes were probably red already, too, but he'd stayed silent for the most part.
Darry slid his hands under Soda's stomach and helped him stand up. Soda allowed himself the assistance this time, but still shot a glare at his older brother as he stood up. His eyes were wet and he was sniffling, but his attitude was still clear on his face.
Oh well, Darry thought to his self, It won't be for long.
Sodapop finished stepping out of his jeans without any prompting, leaving them in a pool on the floor before turning around to grab the wooden spoon from where Darry had left it on the coffee table. He hesitated slightly for a moment before he turned back around, shoving the spoon out to Darry with a sigh.
"Uh-Uh," Darry shook his head, taking the spoon from Soda before turning him towards the dresser that held the other implements, "Get the hairbrush."
And just like that, all of the defiance and bratty attitude that had once been consuming the boy had vanished and was now replaced with a bit of a panicked look and wide eyes, "B-But Ponyboy got the spoon!"
"Ponyboy wasn't a brat from the moment he got down here," Darry replied calmly, "You knew all that mouthing off was gonna make your punishment worse. You kept going, anyway, so you're getting the hairbrush."
Sodapop sputtered for a moment, trying to find a way to talk his self out of it. When he couldn't, he just whined, "C'mon, Dar! I wasn't even that bad!"
His sudden change in demeanor had Darry feeling a little bad, but he wasn't about to falter. Soda knew there were consequences to being so disrespectful when he was already in trouble and he knew he had to face them.
"You were that bad," Darry said sternly, keeping his face and tone firm, "I'm not going to argue with you. You can either get the hairbrush or I can get up and get it for you, but I don't think you want me to do that, do you?"
Soda shook his head quickly. He knew that 'I can get up and get it for you' was more of a threat than an offering of help and now that he was done being devilish, he was trying to avoid any more trouble.
With one last pitiful look, he turned back around and started to shuffle his feet towards the dresser. A part of Darry wanted to hurry him up, but he figured it was a feat for Soda to be doing it without any further prompting, so he let him move at his own pace.
When Sodapop walked back towards him, hairbrush in hand, Darry was pleased to see that the first couple of tears were rolling down his cheeks. The hard-headed brat he'd been acting like was now replaced with the sweet, eager to please kid that Darry knew had never left and he was obviously sorry that he didn't just keep his mouth shut. Sodapop still wiped the tears off of his face the second his brother took the hairbrush out of his hand, so Darry knew that the modesty and stoicism weren't going anywhere, but it was progress nonetheless.
"You have got to learn to stop smarting off when you're already in trouble," Darry stated as he helped Sodapop back over his lap, his voice gentler now but still firm, "You don't get to be so disrespectful to me and then expect me to just let it go. This isn't the first time we've had this conversation."
It most definitely was not. Nearly every other time Sodapop landed himself in trouble, he managed to talk himself into more. His reactions were always the same when he realized he'd earned himself more punishment, but that never stopped him from doing the exact same thing a week later. Sometimes, it was like he couldn't help himself.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, grabbing a throw pillow and wrapping his arms around it, "I don't…"
Darry tapped the hairbrush against his bare thighs after he realized Soda wasn't going to finish, "You don't what, Sodapop?"
"I didn't mean to be so rude," he answered quietly after another moment of silence, only bothering to reply because Darry tapped him a little bit harder, "Sorry."
"Mm," Darry hummed in acknowledgment as he pulled Sodapop back against him, "You never do. Maybe, just maybe, you'll learn to be more careful next time."
Sodapop nodded, sticking his head into the pillow and muttering something. Darry couldn't quite understand what he'd said, but he was sure it was in the affirmative so he didn't ask for him to repeat it. Instead, he decided to get on with the punishment. The longer he made him wait, the higher the chances of Soda turning back into a brat were. Neither of them wanted that, so he made sure he had a hold of his kid brother and patted his behind in fair warning.
Even though he knew it was coming, Sodapop flinched considerably when the first swat landed. Darry got into a slow, deliberate rhythm, landing stinging swats all across his brother's bottom. He always started off slow – focusing more on making it hurt than speed. Speed was good, too, but that was at the end. Quick, sharp swats were good for pushing the boys over the edge and making sure they were sorry. Slow, heavy swats were better for making them think about why they were sorry. Plus, it left more time for them to think about just how much it hurt. That was a plus, too.
And thinking about it, he was. They were about fifteen swats in when Soda started to curl and uncurl his toes, a pretty common reaction for him when it was really starting to hurt and he wasn't ready to make noise yet.
Darry picked up the pace after another minute or so, delivering faster swats with the same amount of force. The uptake in speed definitely got Sodapop's attention and he went from curling his toes to drumming his feet on the couch within a second. He still hadn't cried out, but he was grunting and whimpering quietly into the pillow he had pressed to his face, so Darry knew it wouldn't be long before he would.
"This isn't the first time you and your brother have went over my knee for this," Darry reminded him, not slowing down the onslaught, "I've told you both time and time again, but you never. want. to. listen."
This time, Sodapop let out a real whine, now genuinely kicking his feet against the couch. His feet always lost control before the rest of him did and once they were moving, they didn't stop until after his spanking finished. He didn't like to cry out very much and he wasn't much of a squirmer, so that was his way of coping. When it came down to it, he used the same rule with him as he did with Pony: as long as he wasn't actively trying to get out of the line of fire, Darry left him be. The continuous sound of his feet drumming against the couch cushion could be annoying, but he honestly preferred it to Ponyboy's constant wriggling.
"When I tell you to two not to mess around in here, I'm not doing it to ruin your fun," Darry went on, moving down to Sodapop's sit spots, "I'm doing it because I know how easily things get broken. I also know how easily one of you could have gotten hurt."
He accompanied the two emphasized words with harder swats before stopping, letting Sodapop rest for a moment. Darry could tell he was crying, now, but he was still hiding his face in the pillow. Now that they were into the talking stage, that simply wouldn't do, so Darry reached up to tug it away from him as he spoke, "What were you gonna do if something would have fallen and one of you got hurt? What if you'd knocked over the dresser or the bookcase and it fell on top of your brother? I wasn't home. Do you really think you would have been able to get it off of him by yourself?"
At the thought of this, Soda's crying cranked up, "I don't know!" he whined, dropping his head against the couch.
Sodapop would die ten times over for Ponyboy, so sometimes Darry had to use that protectiveness to get through to him. He didn't like to guilt trip the kid, but it wasn't like what he was saying was impossible. When Darry was fifteen, he was home alone with nine-year-old Sodapop and seven-year-old Ponyboy and they were roughhousing in the living room. In the midst of it, he'd accidentally pushed Sodapop into the bookcase and it came right down on top of him. Darry had never been as scared as he was when he heard Soda scream from under that thing.
Ponyboy was on the other side of the room, (which was a good thing, because he was fucking tiny and he could have died if it had landed on him instead), but he started crying almost immediately, too. Luckily, it only took a split second for his big brother instincts to kick in and for him to send Pony off to call one of their parents. Once he'd scampered off, Darry put everything he had into getting the damn bookcase off of his brother. With all the strength in his teenage body, accompanied by a serious adrenaline rush and sheer willpower, he managed to push it off of him.
Somehow or another, Sodapop made it out of that with just a broken arm and a slight concussion, but that didn't mean Darry hated himself any less for letting it happen. That night, once their Dad had gotten him and Ponyboy home (their Mom had stayed at the hospital with Soda), Darry handed his father the strap with tears running down his face. He was 100% sure he deserved the whipping of a lifetime, but he didn't get one.
He didn't get a spanking at all, actually. Just a very stern talking to from their father, which was like a spanking but just with words, about how he needs to be more responsible and watch what he's doing when he was watching the boys. He also told him how proud he was of him for how he well handled the situation. That pride held a huge part on why Darry didn't get his butt blistered, but looking back, Darry realized that he really had handled the situation really well. Six years later, he still kind of felt like he deserved to be spanked for that, but at the time the fear and the scolding seemed to be enough.
And thus, the 'no roughhousing in the living room' rule was born.
"I wouldn't let nothing happen to him, Dar," Sodapop said quietly, sniffling, "I would have done something."
"I know you wouldn't, Soda," Darry said with a sigh, his voice gentler now, "Not on purpose, at least, but accidents happen and he could have ended up hurt. That's why I'm always on you two about this. I still remember how I felt when that bookcase fell on you. It's not a good feeling, dudda."
Sodapop sniffled pitifully and it was obvious that he would rather be curled in on himself than in such a vulnerable position, "I know," he said quietly after a minute, "I'm sorry."
They still had a little while to go, but Darry was glad to hear an apology out of his little brother. He still didn't acknowledge it though, but instead patted his butt in warning again. This time when he started swatting, it was quick paced and sharp right off the bat and Sodapop immediately let out a pained whine. The faster swats really weren't good for him and his attempt at stoicism.
Darry didn't falter, though, spanking Soda thoroughly for another couple of minutes. The kid did give up being quiet, as Darry expected, and was openly crying and whimpering now. Once Darry turned his attention to Soda's thighs, those cries turned into sobs and he knew it was about time to wrap it up.
Darry smacked the brush down hard a couple of more times before he stopped, leaving the brush rested on his bare thighs as a reminder that there was more to come, "Are we going to have this problem again?"
"No!" Soda cried, shaking his head, "N-not gonna happen again, Dar!"
Darry smiled a little to himself as he thought about how similar his answer was to Ponyboy's, but he quickly shook the thought out of his head. He still needed to finish.
He landed two more swats, one to each of Soda's thighs, before he spoke again, "Are you going to be such a brat when I try to talk to you next time?"
"Noooo," he whined, arching his back in reaction to the onslaught on such sensitive skin, "Please stop, Darry! I'm sorry!"
It was rare that Sodapop would beg, but he really hated that hairbrush. Plus, he was getting smacked on his bare thighs and Darry wasn't really holding back. He hated to hear him cry, but he needed him to learn a lesson on disrespect and rule breaking.
"I don't want to have this talk with you again, Sodapop," Darry stated sternly, showing some mercy and smacking his brief clad bottom instead of his thighs this time, "Not about breaking this rule and definitely not about you talking back. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," he sobbed out, officially going limp over his brother's lap, "It's c-clear."
Satisfied that the boy had been well chastised, Darry patted his back gently, "Alright, kiddo. We're done."
Sodapop was obviously relieved to hear this but didn't make a move to get up. He continued to sob into the couch cushion and Darry let him, gently rubbing the small of his back.
Soda wasn't like Pony when it came to comfort. He liked it, of course, but his pride didn't let him accept it as much as he had when he was younger. Unless it had been a really bad spanking, he tended to calm himself down some before he let Darry hug him, no longer being a huge fan of sobbing into his big brother's shirt.
Darry missed when he'd sit on his lap like Pony did, but he knew he was growing up and he was going to have to let go of that part, eventually. The older the boys got, the more independent they'd be (although, Darry was pretty sure Ponyboy wouldn't be giving up his cuddles anytime soon) and that they'd be able to take care of themselves more. No matter what, though, he'd always hug them after he tanned their hides, whether they wanted him to or not.
Once his sobs had died down to pitiful sniffles and whimpers, Darry helped Sodapop into a sitting position next to him. Darry wrapped his arms around his brother, letting him stick his wet face into his shirt, "I'm not mad at you, kid," he assured him softly, rubbing his back, "You aren't in any trouble, anymore, but you and Pony aren't getting your allowances until half of the TV is paid off. I know it was an accident, but it was still technically you guys' fault."
Sodapop pulled back, face red and eyes puffy but obviously ready to argue. Darry was already prepared to turn him back over his knee, but just as quickly as it came, the defiance died back down and he sighed miserably.
"Okay," he grumbled, using the back of his hand to wipe off his face, "I guess that's fair. 'm not about to be happy about it, though."
Darry chuckled softly, pulling Soda back towards him so he could kiss his head, "I don't expect you to be, dudda. As long as you're not a brat about it, we're okay."
The fact that he didn't go into a rant about how unfair Darry was being meant that the spanking had worked for the time being, at least. Darry was sure it wouldn't last, but he was glad he'd have a day or two of peace from the kid.
Sodapop nodded, sniffling. "I'm not gonna be a brat," he promised softly after a moment of silence, "I'm sick of being grounded, Dar."
"I know you are," Darry replied, resting his hand on the kid's shoulder, "It's been awhile. You gonna be good for me for a week?"
Sodapop shrugged, staring down at his lap, "I can try?"
Darry knew that was about all he could ask for with Sodapop, so he smiled softly and nodded, "Good. As long as I know you're trying, I can be a little lenient."
Sodapop perked up some at that, smiling back a little, "I'll try."
"Good," Darry said again with a short nod before he pulled the kid in so he could kiss the top of his head once more, "Now, go wash your face and get some pants on. We've got a TV to buy."
i'm so sorry for the wait! it's harder to keep up with two stories than I thought it would be!
anyways, i'm honestly not a huge fan of this chapter, but it's alright! when I update again, we'll be getting into the real storyline and you'll get to meet some of the characters!
leave your feedback and I hope you enjoy!
