Summary: Shelby Corcoran thought she'd made it abundantly clear to 15-year-old Rachel that the Lady GaGa concert was out, so when tickets show up days later with the girl's name written all over them, she knows it's time for a more hands-on lesson. But all is not as it seems and Shelby finds herself regretting her rash reaction—how is she ever going to make it up to her child?
A/N: Hello Dear Readers! After the first review (dissertation?) on this story, I decided to add a note. This story is part of a month long 'Spanktember' challenge created by the Discipline Fic Discord I am a part of. This story fills the prompt Unjust Punishment. Please note that this is a work of FICTION and should NOT be taken as a parenting manual or reflecting the real life views of the author. I enjoy writing parental discipline stories of FICTIONAL CHARACTERS. No actual children have been harmed in the making of this story nor do I believe in physical punishment of real life children/teens. In fact, I do not condone any physical act done to someone who has not or cannot consent to such activities.
Now back to your regularly scheduled story. Enjoy!
Ticket for Trouble
"RACHEL BARBRA CORCORAN!"
Rachel's head shot up at her mother's voice, turning from her desk and the homework she had been working on. Then her door banged open and a very angry Shelby Corcoran stood in her doorway, staring daggers at her.
"I thought I was clear, Rachel. You're not going to the Lady GaGa concert," her mother growled.
"I—I know," she said, bewildered. Her mom had made that exceedingly clear last Thursday—after they had argued about it all afternoon. Rachel hadn't been happy about it but she had finally relented (thanks, in part, to the three swift warning swats to her skirt-clad bottom—and the promise of more to follow if she continued). So why was Mom bringing it up again and sounding so angry about it? What was going on?!
Rachel watched with wide eyes as Shelby stormed toward her and slammed a white envelope down on her open trigonometry book. Rachel flinched and leaned away from the mad woman currently possessing her mother.
"What. Is. This?!" Shelby demanded, stabbing her finger at the envelope. Rachel followed the movement, focusing on the letter in question.
Brown eyes widened as they took in the Ticketmaster logo stamped on the upper left-hand side of the envelope. And there, in black letters showing through the plastic address window in the middle, was her name. Excitement flooded through her as she flipped the envelope over. The seal already broken, Rachel thumbed it open enough to see the two Lady GaGa tickets inside.
"Oh my God!" she squealed. "Did you—" Her eyes flicked back up to meet hazel and it was like being drenched in ice-cold water. The teen had forgotten for a moment that her mom was angry about these tickets. If she hadn't bought them as a surprise for Rachel, then she must have thought—
"No," Rachel gasped, staring at her mother in disbelief. "Mom, I didn't!"
"No?" Shelby echoed. "Well I certainly didn't. And I wasn't the one who said she was going to that concert no matter what her mother said. Do you remember that?"
Rachel's mouth fell open in shock. She did say that but her mom couldn't possibly think—
"Wait! Mom!" Rachel yelped as her arm was grabbed in a firm hold and she was tugged up from her chair. She fought against that hold, digging her heels into her cream-colored carpet, but Shelby was stronger and pulled her along to Rachel's bed.
Shelby turned and sat at the edge of the bed and used Rachel's momentum to easily haul the girl over her lap. "So this is the route you decided on? Swiped Mom's credit card again, hmm? Did you honestly think you'd get away with it?" the mother asked as she peeled her child's sweatpants and panties down her legs.
Rachel's heart pounded as she lay in shock over her mother's lap, the cool air sending goosebumps across exposed skin. Her mind whirled as it processed the last minute of her life. This couldn't be happening! She was just doing homework! And now here she was, bare bottom on full display and an angry mother on the other end of it. The girl gasped as her brain finally caught up to Shelby's words and she struggled to right herself. Her mother already had a firm grip on her waist and then her hand was falling fast and hard against bare skin.
"Ow! Ow, no—argh—Mom!"
"I thought we dealt with this the last time with the signed Wicked poster? Did I not make that lesson clear enough for you, Rachel?" Shelby continued, her hand cracking down in a steady rhythm.
"Ouch, no, no! M-Mom, I—Ow! I didn't—You did make it—Ow, NO—c-clear!" Rachel insisted shrilly.
"Then why are we here dealing with this again?" Shelby asked, her tone as biting as her palm at the moment. "Because I really thought the spanking I gave you for using my credit card to buy that damn $500 poster off eBay was enough."
Rachel cried and kicked her legs. "We're not! I d-didn't!" she sputtered.
"Do not lie to me, young lady," Shelby hissed, moving her attention to Rachel's sit-spots.
"I'm not! I'm not! Mom—Ouch—please!" she cried.
Shelby scoffed and her hand crashed down even harder. "Your name is literally written all over this!"
"That doesn't—Ow, God! Doesn't mean I—Ouch, ouch—did it!" Rachel argued as she wiggled back and forth in a vain attempt to avoid her mother's hand.
"Do you think you're in the best position to be sassing me right now, Rachel Barbra?" Shelby asked, her tone incredulous. Rachel quickly backtracked.
"No, no—Ow—Sorry! I'm sorry!" she yelped. "I didn't do it though!"
"That's enough lying too," her mother said, spanking the same spot several times over. "You've been dishonest with me one too many times in the last few weeks. It ends right now, do you hear me?"
"But I didn't—"
"Stop it now!" Shelby growled, her hand a blur as it rose and fell. "You've been caught and now you're going to face the consequences!"
"No! No, Mommy, nooo!"
Shelby shook her head, ignoring her child's protests; it was easy to do, as she felt Rachel more than deserved the sore, hot bottom she was getting. Part of her couldn't believe Rachel's nerve—then again, Shelby really shouldn't be surprised. Her daughter was tenacious and when she made her mind up to do something, she did it. It was a good quality to have (most of the time). Today wasn't one of those times—and the sooner her teenager learned the difference, the better.
"Do you remember what I promised would happen if there was a next time with my credit card?" Shelby asked, finishing her third go-round on the pink bottom before her. She rested her hand atop warm skin and waited for her child to catch her breath.
Rachel's stomach flipped and she shook her head fiercely. "Mommy, no!" she begged, craning her neck to shoot a tearful glance over her shoulder at her mother. "Please don't! I didn't t-take your card!"
Shelby shook her head in return, finding it harder to remain stern with doleful little eyes staring at her. Her daughter was really very cute—but that didn't get her out of all the trouble she deliberately put herself in. "Unless you have a credit card of your own—and God help you if you do, young lady—" Shelby helped Rachel to her feet and stood her up between her knees, leveling her with a raised eyebrow as she did, "—you must have used mine. The tickets didn't just appear out of thin air, Rachel."
"Mom—"
"Go get the hairbrush, please. It's in my bathroom," Shelby ordered calmly.
"But Mommy, please! If you'd just listen," Rachel started, only to find herself turned to the side. She sucked in a breath and tried to wriggle free, but her mother's hand was too quick and landed with a sharp sting on her bare thigh. "Ow!"
"Now, Rachel," Shelby said, releasing her child. She watched the girl shuffle off with sweats and panties bunched around her ankles encumbering her stride. If it wasn't such a serious moment, the sight would have been adorable. As it was, Shelby just felt resigned—no one ever told you how hard motherhood truly was.
Rachel's tears started in earnest as she was sent to fetch her mother's heavy wooden hairbrush. It was just so unfair! It was clear that her mom had already decided on her version of events and what the "truth" was. It didn't matter that it wasn't the actual truth—that Rachel wasn't lying and hadn't bought those tickets. But Shelby didn't seem to be at all interested in what Rachel's side of the story was (not that Rachel had a story—she was just as flummoxed about the tickets as her mom was). Still, Rachel would have liked to have had at least a chance to explain. Instead, she was being given the spanking of a lifetime—and there wasn't anything she could do to stop it.
"Rachel, if I have to come in there and get you…" Her mother's threat carried across the hall and into the ensuite where Rachel was staring down at the large oval hairbrush as if it were going to jump up and bite her any second now. It would, of course, bite her—in her mom's hands, that was. And she wasn't about to have her still-angry mother come in here and decide Rachel needed more on top of whatever she already had coming. So without another thought, Rachel snatched up the brush and returned to her room as fast as she could (which wasn't fast at all with her clothing pooled around her feet).
Shelby held her hand out and waited with more patience than she felt for Rachel to place the hairbrush in her outstretched palm. The girl did finally, and Shelby thanked her before lowering her back into position over her knees. Shelby wanted to be done with this nasty business just as badly as her daughter did—perhaps more so.
"Alright, Rach. Let's get this done," Shelby sighed, tapping the hairbrush against pink cheeks.
"Mommy, please, can't you just—"
"Enough, Rachel," the mother interrupted sternly. "You knew this was going to happen the moment you took my credit card. We've been through this before and I promised I'd paddle your bare bottom good and hard if there was a next time. Have I ever broken a promise to you?"
Rachel could only cry and shake her head back and forth, hurt over the injustice of it all. It felt like a horrible nightmare and one she would have sworn was, if not for the deep, burning ache in her bottom. And while that did, in fact, hurt, it was nothing compared to the hidden agony in her heart.
The teenager was so caught up in her misery that she didn't notice when the brush left her bottom, nor did she as it flew back down. Her ears registered the loud CRACK as it landed and there was a brief pause in which time stood still. Then the pain surged and Rachel cried out at the top of her lungs. She gasped as a second fell, then a third.
"Owwhowoww! Mom! Mom—AH! Stop!" the teen begged as oval-shaped rings of fire blazed across her backside. "Please! PLEASE!"
"You know, Rachel," Shelby began conversationally as she methodically painted her child's bottom a deep red. "I usually admire your determination and drive. You know what you want and you go get it—fabulous."
"Ah! Mmphh—AH! Ow! Ouch!"
"Using that willpower to steal and sneak around my back to do what you want in spite of what I say—not so much," Shelby continued, reinforcing her point with two good cracks to the girl's sit-spots.
Rachel was sobbing by now, in too much pain and too tired to argue anymore. It wasn't helping her and she picked up too late that she was only prolonging her suffering. So she stopped arguing, stopped wiggling and kicking, and went limp across her mom's lap. And then she said what she thought the woman wanted to hear.
"S-Sorry! 'M sorry! Oww, Mommy, ooow, I'm sorry!" she wailed.
"I'm glad to see you're finally owning up to your poor decisions," Shelby remarked, and Rachel's stomach sank down to her feet. Did that mean her mother wasn't finished with her?
But Shelby had more than proved her point and the lesson had been learned. She dropped the brush and finished off with half a dozen rapid-fire scorchers from her hand, causing Rachel to cry that much harder, but then it was done. The hand that had just been the source of so much pain now rubbed soothing circles on a heaving back.
"There now, all done," she cooed gently, "That's my girl, let it out. It's all over now. Shh, shhh."
Rachel continued to sob, her anguish palpable. Shelby frowned and began to worry—this wasn't her child's usual response to the end of a spanking. Yes, there were tears, but this seemed excessive. Even the addition of the seldom-used hairbrush didn't account for the abundance or duration of her crying.
"Hey. Hey, baby," the mother soothed as she helped the distraught teen to her feet. Cupping the girl's flushed face, she wiped at the tears falling from red, bloodshot eyes. "What's all this? It's done now, you've taken your spanking. It's over. You're forgiven, sweetheart."
Rachel wouldn't meet her mom's concerned, searching eyes—she couldn't—but she was no match for the warm, gentle caress of Shelby's fingers. She felt herself succumbing to the familiar comfort of her mother's hands now brushing back hair from a sweaty forehead. She was given a kiss and then her mom leaned forward, reaching down to bring her panties back into place. As careful as the woman was in dragging them up and over her bottom, it still made Rachel's breath hitch as they settled against her inflamed skin.
"I—don't—want—my—pants," she choked between wracking sobs.
"Okay," Shelby agreed and helped Rachel remove them. That done, Shelby eased the girl onto her lap for some much-needed cuddles. As she wrapped her arms around shuddering shoulders, Shelby noticed the stiffness in the girl's posture—another stark difference to normal proceedings.
Meanwhile, Rachel was locked in an intense internal struggle, her innate need to seek out her mother's comfort warring with her rising anger at the woman. How was she just supposed to be okay with what happened? She didn't do what she was accused of (not that it mattered now). She had already been spanked for it—hell, she apologized for it! It was over and done with in her mother's eyes. And even if there was some way to prove her innocence…what then? It wasn't like her mom could take back the spanking she gave her. There wasn't an 'undo' button for burned butts.
In the end, her anger won and Rachel squirmed to get off of her mother's lap. She was still crying, though it had slowed, (Rachel didn't think she had many tears left to cry before she was dehydrated), and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. She scowled at her mom when hazel eyes stared at her questioningly and stepped away from the hand that was trying to coax her back in.
"Rachel—"
"I've got homework to finish," she said, sniffling.
Shelby sighed and nodded even as her heart broke at her child's rejection. She wasn't used to being turned away from offering love and comfort after a spanking. Rachel had always been so receptive to it before, even veering into clingy territory. And it wasn't like the gap between this spanking and her last was so great that she would have outgrown her need in that time.
The mother grabbed her hairbrush and then stood up from her child's bed. "Okay, honey," she said as she stopped in front of her teenager to place a kiss to her head, relieved that the girl let her provide at least that much comfort. She then hooked a finger under the girl's chin so she could meet stormy eyes. "I love you, baby." She gave a sad smile as Rachel's eyes grew darker, more tears slipping past long lashes. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."
She then let go of her daughter's chin and moved to the desk where she had slammed the envelope down earlier, gathering it up on the way to the door. She paused at the threshold, calling back to the girl, "I'll call you when dinner's ready."
Rachel remained motionless until she heard that definitive click of the latch catching, then threw her hands behind her to rub frantically at her sore bottom. She could feel the heat emanating off her in waves, hot enough through her panties and worse still from bare skin. She hissed and pulled her hands away when she hit the tender spots where her bottom met thighs, silently cursing her mother for concentrating on that area most of all. Twisting to look, Rachel gasped at the brilliant shade of red that greeted her. She hurried over to the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door for a better look.
"Holy Barbra!" she hissed as soon as she caught sight of it in full. Sitting in class tomorrow was going to prove…difficult. And a skirt or dress was simply out of the question!
Rachel swiped a hand over her face again and eased her panties back into place before heading for her bed. She curled up on her side, reaching for the yellow baby blanket she still slept with and brought it to her face. She inhaled the familiar scent of it, relaxing into its comfort as she sifted through her feelings.
Shelby had her own feelings to contend with as she entered her office downstairs. It was never easy being the bad guy in your child's eyes and today was especially hard. It didn't help that things with Rachel had been rocky recently. With less than eight weeks until the girl's sixteenth birthday, Shelby was knee-deep in the trenches of teenagerdom.
Rachel had been straining against the confines of Shelby's rules for months now. And while the mother had been working on loosening the reins and giving her child more freedoms, Rachel never did do anything halfway. No, it was all or nothing with her girl and Rachel tended to go hard in all she did. It was another trait that would serve her well in life—but later, when Shelby was finished raising her!
For now, it was hell—and Shelby was alone on the frontlines. It wasn't something she regretted, raising a child by herself. She had wanted to be a mother so badly and had gotten tired of waiting around for Mr. Right. So she had gone to her best friend, Hiram Berry, and asked if he would be willing to be the donor. He agreed and while it was no secret what his relation to their daughter was, he wasn't an active participant in her upbringing.
As a highly renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, Hiram traveled the country teaching others in his field the techniques he had perfected in his twenty-year career. A lifelong bachelor, he was married to his work, but he always made sure he was there for every birthday and special occasion. He had trust funds set up for Rachel, one for college and another to get her started in her adult life, and even sent Shelby money every month to help with any expenses she had for Rachel. The last was something Shelby always told him she didn't need but he was persistent—a trait their daughter had inherited.
Shelby sighed and shook herself out of her reflections. She didn't have time to sit here and stare off into space as her mind wandered. Her eyes flicked to the large clock on her wall—it was quarter to five already! She wanted to get online to check her credit card statement and see about canceling these tickets, and she still needed to figure out what to do for dinner!
Keys clacked loudly beneath Shelby's fingers as she signed into her Discover account. She scanned the list twice and didn't see a TicketMaster charge anywhere. So her child hadn't used the same card she had when she bought the poster. Logging out of that account, Shelby jumped over to her Visa one. She hovered the cursor over the login button and was about to click when her phone rang and startled her.
"Well speak of the devil!" she laughed as she answered. "I was just thinking about you."
"Really, before five on a Wednesday? How very saucy, Shelby," Hiram teased.
"Oh hush," Shelby giggled. "What are you up to? And what do you want? It's not like you to call on a random weeknight—not that I'm complaining, mind you. You know I love hearing from you."
"Do I really need a reason to call my favorite girl? I was starting to miss your voice—especially when you start in with the hot, hard-ass Coach Corcoran schtick you do so well. It's been a few weeks since your last lecture on my eating habits, I'm starting to get withdrawals."
Shelby rolled her eyes at the man even though he couldn't see it. He was incorrigible! "You're a heart surgeon! You should know how bad all that red meat is for you!"
"Mmm, there it is. Honestly how any of the boys in your classes or on your team get any work done is beyond me," Hiram rasped.
"Stop it. You do remember that you're a gay man, no? What are you up to that you need to butter me up for?"
"I am not up to anything, madam. But I do need you to check your mail. There's a surprise for Rachel! It should be there today or tomorrow."
"W-What?" Shelby croaked as her world began to spin. Her ears rang and goosebumps prickled her skin as the pieces of this crazy, real-life plot twist hit her like a ten-pound brick to the face. "Hiram, no."
"No? No what? You don't even know what I got her yet, it's—"
"Lady Gaga tickets," Shelby answered for him.
"Lady—yeah. Hey! You got them! Does she like them? Was she surprised?" Hiram asked excitedly. Shelby felt like she might vomit.
"I'll say!" Shelby screeched. "Surprise of the fucking century! Hiram, why didn't you tell me? What the HELL were you thinking?!"
"Wha—Why are you yelling at me? I wanted to surprise her for her sixteenth birthday. I didn't tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise for you too. What, did you already buy tickets or something?" Shelby could hear the man's hurt and confusion over the phone.
"Or something," Shelby sighed. "We got the tickets. I…I thought Rachel took my card again to buy them, like she did with the—"
"Wicked poster." It was Hiram's turn to finish her own sentence. Shelby nodded and then burst into tears as she explained the whole fiasco.
"Shelby, honey, it's going to be okay," Hiram soothed from the other end of the line.
"God, I am a horrible mother. The worst mother on the face of the planet—the worst mother in the history of mothers, the—"
"Shelby, you're not," Hiram said.
"I am. Hiram, I spanked her. No, I paddled her! I didn't even listen to her, I just stormed into her room and hauled her over my lap. God, I'm such a fucking—She told me she didn't do it. She begged me to listen to her and I just brushed all of that aside and—"
"Hey, hey," Hiram's voice broke through some of Shelby's self-loathing (enough to make her pause, at least). "Shelby, you're not a horrible mother. You're a wonderful mother—"
Shelby let out a garbled sound, half sob, half scoff.
"You are," Hiram insisted. "You made a mistake, Shel. You're human, you're allowed to mess up every once in a while."
"I more than messed up, I—Rachel's never going to forgive me!" Shelby wailed.
"C'mon, Shelby. Of course she will. She might be mad at first but she'll get over it. And she will forgive you," Hiram said.
"Yeah, that's easy for you to say, isn't it?" Shelby's anger flared. "You don't have to ever be the bad guy or deal with the hard parts—you just get to be the cool, fun Dad."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Hiram's voice bordered on the edge of anger in return. "That's not fair and you know it, Shelby."
"Oh God, no, I'm sorry, Hi—you're right. I'm so sorry. I—I'm angry with myself and took it out on you and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Shelbs. I know you're upset and hurting over this—I get it, I do. You gotta cut yourself some slack though. Mistakes happen and that's all this was—a mistake. Don't beat yourself up over it, that's not helping anyone."
"No, I only beat up our child over it. No big deal," Shelby mumbled scornfully.
"Shelby Renée! I don't want to ever hear you talk like that again!" Hiram's voice boomed in the woman's ear—so much so that Shelby had to pull her phone away for a moment. "You spanked her, you didn't beat her."
"I spanked her for something she didn't do. Seems like a beating to me," Shelby returned bitterly.
"Alright, stop it with the pity-party, will ya? Put your big girl panties on and pull yourself together! Otherwise, I swear to God, Shelby, I'm on the next flight out to New York to put you over my knee!"
Shelby's stomach flipped at her friend's threat and she honestly wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. Still, it had the desired effect and Shelby squared her shoulders and wiped at her face. Hiram was right, of course. She couldn't wallow in self-pity. She had made a mistake and now it was her job to make it right.
"Okay, okay, fine," she relented and she could practically hear the smug smile spread across his face. "You're right. I gotta go then—have to figure out how on Earth I'm going to make this up to Rachel."
"You'll figure something out, Shel, you always do," Hiram offered. "I'm always here for you, too—you know that. So call me later if you need me. If not, I'll talk to you both Saturday at our usual time. Give Rachel a hug and kiss from me."
"Will do, Hi," Shelby said. "I'll talk to you later. Love you."
"Love you too, Shel. Good luck!"
Shelby let out a long sigh as she set her phone aside, then hunched forward over her desk, letting her head hit the surface with a none-too-gentle thunk. What was she going to say to Rachel—how could she ever explain? And how in the hell was she going to make it better?
The mother raised her head and let it fall to the desk twice more, groaning at the ache it caused. It was nothing compared to the ache in her heart—and what about the ache she had caused her child, both physically and emotionally? Shelby missed when things were easier, the stakes not so high, and hugs and kisses from Mommy could fix everything.
Thirty minutes later Shelby found herself outside of her child's bedroom door once again—this time upset with herself. She had spent some time downstairs thinking up the best way to make it up to Rachel and before she knew it, she was purchasing two VIP Meet & Greet pre-show passes. Standing in the hall now, practicing what she wanted to say to her girl for the millionth time, Shelby wondered if it would be enough.
"Get a grip, Corcoran. You are a strong, confident woman. You've been at the forefront in cultivating the most sought-after high school musical program in the country, you've coached an award-winning show choir for twelve years—you can handle this."
With a deep breath, the mother squared her shoulders and then rapped on the door and listened for any noise from the other side. When she didn't hear anything, she eased it open and saw Rachel laying in bed with her back to the door. Her heart constricted as her eyes scanned the red skin peeking out beneath the edges of the girl's panties and covered a good portion of her upper thighs.
Stepping inside, Shelby made her way around her daughter's bed so she could sit on the side Rachel was facing. The girl's eyes were closed but the mother noted the too-stiff posture of her child. She also noted the dampness of the girl's cheeks and felt her own eyes watering at the sight. What had she done?
Scooting in closer to the teen, Shelby reached out with a gentle hand to rest lightly against hot skin. She could feel the muscles tense beneath her and red-rimmed eyes popped open to stare at her in alarm. Shelby made a gentle shushing sound as she began to softly rub the area in the hopes of relieving some of the discomfort. Rachel's brows furrowed and she remained rigid, but she didn't jerk away from her mother's touch either—Shelby took that as a good sign.
"Rachel, honey, we need to talk," Shelby murmured after several minutes had passed. By now, the girl had relaxed some and even rolled further onto her stomach, exposing more of her sore bottom for her mom to soothe.
"Why? You didn't want to talk before," Rachel returned icily. Then her eyes widened and she froze. Her mother's hand was literally on her butt right now, rubbing away the lingering sting. It felt nice and Rachel had allowed herself to relax under that soothing hand, but there was nothing preventing that hand from turning hard again and popping her for her smart comment.
She heard the woman sigh heavily as she stilled her hand and the girl flinched, knowing she wouldn't be fast enough to escape a stinging swat. But her mom's hand never left her bottom and returned to rubbing after that brief pause. Rachel frowned but didn't say anything—didn't move—and waited for whatever was coming next.
"You're right, I didn't. That wasn't fair of me at all," her mother's voice broke the silence and Rachel froze again. She hadn't expected—not after what happened—for her mom to acknowledge that. And she wasn't sure what to do with that now that she had.
Shelby watched her child's body language, picking up the girl's unease and confusion. More than anything she felt and saw the signs of her child's anguish—hurt sewn by her own mother's hands and planted deep within that beautiful heart, left to take root and watered by the teenager's tears. Shelby was a monster and with the next words she spoke, Rachel would know it too.
"And you're the one who suffered from my actions. I should have taken the time to stop and listen to you, Rachel. I didn't and I—I punished you unfairly because of it. Apologizing isn't enough, I know that—but I want you to know that I am sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. If I could take it back, I would. I—"
Rachel's heart pounded as anger and adrenaline coursed through her small frame. She used that energy to launch herself up and off of the bed, landing on the opposite side of it to Shelby and glaring daggers at her.
"I told you! I FRIGGIN' TOLD YOU!" she bellowed. She was acutely aware of how ridiculous she must look right now in nothing more than a faded Broadway Cares t-shirt and her plain blue Fruit of the Loom underwear, neither of which did anything to hide the glowing evidence of her wrongful conviction.
"I know, honey—you did," Shelby reaffirmed, her tone gentle. She was prepared to sit with Rachel in her hurt and anger until they ran their course, however long it took. "I was so sure I knew the facts—we just argued over you going to the concert and, well, there's been other instances where you've made…questionable choices. But none of that excuses me barreling in here and not discussing it with you properly."
"Are you fu—What the HELL, Mom?!" Rachel exploded, raising her hands to her head. Raking fingers through her hair, she let out a harsh breath as she began to pace back and forth. "You're telling me you—you—That was the h-hardest you've ever…I've gotten in trouble for it before so that means I must've done it now? You've span—I've been punished for all of those things already! Y-You're not supposed to hold that against me after it's over! I didn't…I told you I didn't do it. I told you, Mommy."
Her tirade was littered with stops and starts and her voice cracked as she tried to hold back angry tears. By the end she was just tired and feeling betrayed by her very own brain. Because despite everything, Rachel was quickly losing her battle against herself. Every fiber in her being screamed at her to take that final step forward and into her mother's arms. She hated herself for the childish desire—hated that she was seconds away from giving in to it. But really, it wasn't her fault for craving that—it was an evolutionary survival tactic. She had no control over it. That was just science.
"Baby," Shelby's voice was barely above a whisper, too afraid she'd scare the girl off. Rachel had returned to the edge of the bed across from her; if Shelby leaned over, she'd be able to touch her. She wouldn't though, not until Rachel came to her. That was important—she couldn't force her comfort on her child (as much as she might want to).
Rachel's small frame quaked from the enormous effort it took to stand still and not fall into those waiting arms. But who was she kidding? Her stubborn nature paled in comparison to the millions of years of evolution stacked against her. She crumpled under the weight of it.
"Oof!" Shelby gasped as all one-hundred-and-ten-pounds of teenager was hurled at her. She caught the girl and then caught herself, saving the pair of them from falling face-first off the side of the bed. "Hold on, Rach." She labored to maneuver both of them further up the bed and then settle amongst the mountain of pillows propped up at the headboard (all-the-while Rachel did her very best to burrow in as close to Shelby as humanly possible). Finally situated, she contented herself with holding her child close and letting the girl cry out all of her tears.
Her tears didn't last long. Rachel suspected she had finally run dry—or maybe it had more to do with the truth being out. Now that both she and her mom knew she hadn't bought the concert tickets, Rachel had some closure to the whole ordeal. Oh, she was still plenty angry and upset about everything, but at least there was an end in sight.
Shelby didn't care so much about why her child's tears had stopped, just that they had. She leaned over to grab the box of tissues on Rachel's bedside table and grimaced as she felt her child wipe her face on her good silk blouse. Oh well, she thought—that's what dry cleaners were for.
"I'm thirsty," Rachel sniffled, rubbing her nose on her mom's blouse without thought. The woman shifted and grabbed hold of her chin, tilting her face up. A tissue was swiped across her cheeks and then held against her nose for her to blow.
Shelby made the same circuit with a second tissue before deeming her child sufficiently cleaned. "There now," she murmured with a kiss to a temple. "That's better. Let me get your drink."
Scooting off the bed, Shelby made her way into the hallway and across to her own bedroom. She quickly changed out of her work clothes and into a ratty pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. She was then off to get Rachel her drink.
Returning to her teen's bedroom, she entered to find the girl laying on her side with one hand rubbing at her bottom. Guilt ate at her insides. "Here baby." She handed one cold bottle of water to her child and placed her own on the nightstand before rejoining her on the bed.
Rachel hissed as she sat up, but took the water gratefully. Cracking the seal, she brought the bottle to her lips and gulped down half of the cold liquid in one go. She took a second, smaller sip and then handed it over to her mom, who set it on the nightstand for her. She then rolled back onto her belly and shifted until she was comfortably molded against her mother's side, her head coming to rest on the woman's chest.
"My butt hurts," she whined, reaching a hand back to rub. Her skin was still so hot and the ache relentless. She'd give anything to have this pain heal as quickly as the one in her heart, but no amount of kisses or cuddles would soothe this hurt.
"I know, honey. I'm so sorry," Shelby commiserated, her own hand lowering to take over the task of easing the sting. She winced at the heat radiating off tender skin in waves. "I have an idea," she said after a brief pause. "Let me up—I'll be back in a sec."
Rachel shifted enough to give her mother enough room to wiggle free and then laid back down and continued rubbing her bottom. Shelby hurried from the room, returning moments later with a bottle of soothing aloe. It was a summer staple in their home for relieving sunburn and Shelby thought it might just do the trick for Rachel's mother-made burn.
Shelby perched on the side of the bed and leaned over to push her child's shirt up and out of the way, then carefully lowered the girl's panties to her knees. Rachel gasped and tensed despite knowing what her mom was planning—it was still unnerving to have your underwear lowered for any reason. A second gasp escaped her lips, this time from the sudden shock of cold goo hitting her hot flesh. She craned her neck around, half expecting to see steam rising from the area. She caught sight of how red her butt and thighs still were and groaned.
"Sorry, sweetheart. This should help," Shelby offered as she began to rub the aloe into her child's skin.
"I hope—ah—so," Rachel hissed.
"Me too, baby," Shelby whispered to herself. She finished her task quickly and then fanned her hand over the area. Rachel had melted into the mattress after the initial discomfort and now let out a relieved sigh as her bottom was cooled even more. "Better?" the mother asked as she eased the girl's panties back into place.
"Better," Rachel confirmed, rolling onto her side and propping her head in her hand.
"I'm glad, baby," Shelby said with a sad smile. She still felt awful for what she had done. "I really am so sorry, Rachel. I wish I could go back and redo this afternoon."
"How did you even find out?"
Shelby sighed and felt her cheeks heating up. "Your dad called."
"Dad bought them for me? Does that mean I can go?" Rachel asked, eyes sparkling in excitement.
"Yes, you can go," Shelby nodded. "I even bought you the Meet & Greet before the show."
"What? Ohmygod, are you serious?!" Rachel squealed, launching herself at her mother for the second time that day. "Mom, I love you!"
"I love you too, sweetheart," Shelby laughed, hugging her girl tightly.
"Wait," Rachel frowned as reality settled back around her. She pulled back to meet hazel eyes. "It's still a school night and our last rehearsal before Regionals. Why are you letting me go now?"
That had been her mom's original objection to the concert and why she had told Rachel she couldn't go. Rachel had thought that was a stupid reason and told her mother as much—it was why they had argued so badly the week before. Shelby remained adamant that school came first and both she and Rachel had a commitment to their team. Rachel had seethed, but in the end she relented. How could she not? Having a strict mother was hard. Having a strict mother who was also the dedicated (and slightly crazed) Musical Director and Vocal Coach of the twelve-time National Show Choir champion glee club you were a part of was something else entirely. She never stood a chance against both.
Now she wasn't sure what to think. Shelby Corcoran in all her forms was an enigma, one Rachel wasn't sure she'd ever figure out.
Shelby let out a long sigh as she eased Rachel into a comfortable position on her lap. She offered a small smile as her child watched her expectantly. "That was another mistake on my end, baby," she confessed. "I was speaking as Coach Corcoran and not Mom like I should have been."
Rachel's lips curled in and her eyebrows shot up as she cut her eyes away from her mother. She very much wanted to voice her opinion on the matter but the persistent ache in her bottom stilled her tongue. In her head, however, she thought, "No shit, Sherlock."
Shelby laughed and kissed her child's head—Rachel didn't need to voice her thought for Shelby to hear it loud and clear.