Yes! I live! I have returned and am ready to write. I've got several ideas, hangten, I promise I'm going to start on those prompts you gave me soon. Those will be the next two that I write, but I felt that I needed to write a Sam fic first.

I absolutely hated how Sam treated Deeks in season 1, it was horrible. So I've decided to do something about it.

...

Sticks and Stones

"Mr Hanna, please meet me in the boatshed in twenty minutes. We need to have a chat," Hetty called from across the way as the team packed up their gear to head home. Sam frowned, glancing over at Hetty.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quietly, shouldering his bag.

"Whoop, somebody's in trouble," Deeks teased with a grin as he slid his laptop into his messenger bag. Kensi risked a giggle, surprised Deeks had the guts to tease.

"Shut up, temp," Sam spat as he walked out of the bullpen.

"Not anymore, Samdog!" Deeks called half-heartedly, honestly sick of the way he was treated by Sam.

"Don't call me that," Sam muttered as he disappeared down the tunnel. Deeks frowned. Kensi gave him a sympathetic smile.

...

"Mr Hanna, I'm sure you don't need me to remind you that the way you treat Mr Deeks is absolutely unacceptable," Hetty began. "I have put up with it for now, as has Mr Deeks, in hoped that it would stop, but it has not, and I can tell that it is wearing Mr Deeks down."

Sam opened his mouth to object, but Hetty kept speaking.

"He is more reserved, less talkative, but tries to use humor to cover his hurt. Sam, you're hurting him more than you know! I know you miss Dom, but you cannot take out your sadness and anger on Mr Deeks. There are other, much better ways to cope, Sam!" Hetty admonished sternly, shaking her finger at him.

Sam frowned. That was exactly what he was doing, taking out his anger, his guilt, on Deeks, and it wasn't fair. He had no other explanation.

"Have you anything else to say for yourself?"

"No, ma'am, I do not," Sam started meekly, fully acknowledging what he was doing was wrong. "I agree with everything you just said."

"Good," Hetty said with a nod. Out of all her kids, Sam was the most agreeable and easy when it came to discipline. "I don't think I need to tell you what to do next," Hetty said, gesturing at the table they both stood beside. Sam nodded, fingers going to unbuckle and pull his belt through the loops. He placed it on the table, gently.

Sam took a deep breath and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them to his knees. He then bent over the table, inwardly pleading that Hetty would allow him to keep his boxers up. Hetty did, but wasted no time in reaching for his belt, folding it in half and then taking a step back.

Sam jerked as Hetty laid on the first swat, but stayed put as she let a second fall. Sam grunted as Hetty continued to swat him, starting at the top of his bottom and working her way down, slowly, to his sit spots. Sam bore his punishment stoically, standing as if he were rooted to the spot, sucking in a quick breath through his teeth each time another stroke fell.

Hetty admired the strength Sam showed. He didn't move, refused to cry out, and didn't shed a tear. She landed a flurry of strokes to the center of his bottom, and Sam stiffened, groaning.

Hetty paused for a moment to allow Sam to get a breath before picking up the pace, increasing the intensity of the swats. She wanted to ensure that he wasn't going to repeat his offense. Sam let out a yelp of pain as a particularly hard smack landed just right on his under curve, and he jerked as Hetty repeated the swat.

Hetty kept going with the sets of these double swats, two swats at a time to one spot before moving. This efficiently gave his bottom a nice red hue and created a deep-set burning sting.

Tears sprung to Sam's eyes, and he took to glaring at the rough wood of the table to focus his mind elsewhere. Which was difficult seeing as Hetty continued to light a fire in his backside.

The bite of leather into sensitive skin made Sam never want to wear a belt again, but he knew he deserved it. The way he had been treating Deeks was awful, he just wished he had realized his mistakes earlier.

Sam yelped rather shrilly when Hetty refocused her swats to his thighs, The tears that were brimming now threatening to fall. Hetty ended his punishment with one last strike to the undercurve of his bottom just as one solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

Sam grunted, jumping at the final strike. He let out a breath, resting his forehead on the table, breathing heavily. He heard Hetty drop the belt to the floor, the buckle clunking hollowly on the wood. He heard the scrape of a chair across the floor as Hetty drug it over so she could reach his height.

"You may stand up, now, Mr Hanna," Hetty said gently, patting his back twice. Sam nodded, shuffling his feet as he stood back upright with a groan. He bent down and pulled up his jeans over his boxers, tensing when the rough fabric chafed his sore skin. Hetty clambered up on the chair, holding her arms out for a hug.

Sam smiled, wrapping his arms around her for a most-welcomed hug. Hetty patted his back, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"You be respectful to your teammates, you hear?" she asked, though there was no anger or scolding edge to her voice. Instead it was soft, more of a gentle reminder than chastise.

"I will, Hetty," Sam said with a grin.

"Good." Hetty pulled back, setting her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. "Run along then. Go apologize to Mr Deeks."

Sam nodded. "Yes ma'am."

...

Sam entered the bullpen stiffly, coming to stand in front of Dom's, er, Deeks' desk. The detective was tapping away at his computer keys, absorbed in whatever he was filling out. His body language suggested he knew Sam was there, just was ignoring him.

Sam cleared his throat and shifted his foot. Deeks glanced up with a frown.

"Are you in need of something, or come to verbally abuse me again?" he asked snidely, looking back down at his screen. "You know what they say," he deadpanned. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Deeks frowned and raised an eyebrow, refusing to look at Sam. "Fire away."

"I've come to apologize," Sam said, feeling rather guilty about what Deeks had just said. It was obvious he'd been hurt, emotionally.

Deeks glanced up, a look of surprise on his face. He shut his laptop, leaning back in his chair. He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, Deeks," Sam said. "The way I've been treating you has been pretty awful, and it's going to stop, right now." Sam tapped his finger firmly on Deeks' desk.

"You're just saying that cause you're afraid of Hetty," Deeks muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No, I'm not, Deeks," Sam said firmly. "The name-calling, the rude comments, it's all stopping. Today."

"Really?" Deeks asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't know what had happened in the boatshed, but it couldn't've been good. A small smile played on his lips.

"Really," Sam confirmed with a nod. Deeks pushed back his chair and stood, coming around his desk. He held out his hand.

"Truce?"

Sam grinned, taking his hand and pulling him in for a quick one-armed hug.

"Truce."

…

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