Warning: here be spanking. If you don't like it, please don't read it.
Linda had made Jamie get into bed, which he resented a little at first. If he'd have had his own way he would have been out with Danny and Erin, or at least sitting right next to the telephone in case someone called with news. But there was no arguing with Linda once she'd decided something was for your own good, and Jamie found himself bundled into bed without much further ado.
He was extremely tired, he realised after a while. Wandering about in New York City, going to a party, smoking weed, getting into a car accident and oh, right, running from the cops and taking an unplanned dive into a swimming pool would do that for you, he guessed. The amount of crying he'd done earlier in the evening hadn't done much to improve his energy levels either.
But he was resolved not to fall asleep, since Linda had promised to come and tell him the minute she heard anything. With the caveat that she wouldn't wake him to do it.
He was resolved, and also mentally still wide awake, running the evening's events through his head over and over again. At least Danny was handling it now. Danny and Erin and Linda and Gramps. The relief of knowing that was immense. If there was anything they couldn't do or handle, Jamie had yet to find it.
Joe was sleeping in the downstairs guestroom, Linda had told him. And he hadn't been avoiding Jamie, he'd just been doing a bit of going of the rails himself. That too was a relief.
If only Danny and Erin could find Dad.
If only he hadn't told Dad that he'd hated him. What if they didn't find Dad, didn't find him in time? And if they did? Dad might not want to come back, might not ever want to see Jamie again after the horrible things he'd done and said. Part of him knew that it wasn't true. Dad loved him, no matter what. Like he loved Dad, no matter what. But he couldn't quite get himself to stop worrying.
Despite his resolve and the worrying, he must have somehow drifted off. The last thing he remembered was the grandfather clock in the hallway striking one, and then it was suddenly morning, with yellow sunlight tinting his curtains.
Jamie rolled onto his side and sat up, rubbing at his face. His eyes were scratchy and his head thick, but he felt tolerably well-rested.
Downstairs, someone was frying bacon. The smell wafted upstairs as he went out into the hallway, making his mouth water.
He went to the bathroom, washing his face as well, and then went downstairs, fully expecting to find Danny or Linda in front of the stove.
Instead, it was Dad, in sweatpants and a ratty old USMC t-shirt. He was flipping the bacon with his fingers, an old habit that used to drive his mom and Erin spare. Almost miraculously, he no longer looked like a ghost. Jamie could only stand in the door and gape.
Dad must have heard him, because he turned, and gave Jamie a smile that said "I'm sorry," and "it's alright" and "I see you" all at once. Jamie barrelled into him, grabbing so hard it must have hurt, and burst into heavy sobs.
And Dad hugged him back, not saying anything, just letting Jamie feel the strength of his arms around him, the warmth of his body, the slow rise and fall of air in his chest.
"Hey now," he said, after a while. "It's okay, son. It's okay."
He loosened Jamie's grip on his waist somewhat, but only to sit down at the kitchen table and draw him bodily into his lap. It should have been awkward, Jamie was fifteen and grown after all, but Dad was large enough that it wasn't a bad fit.
Dad rubbed his back, slowly.
"I'm so sorry, Jamie, I'm so sorry for shutting you out like that. I love you very much, and I will always care about what you're doing, and I'm so sorry for making you doubt that. I promise that I will never leave you like that again. Will you please forgive me?"
Jamie leaned back slightly, looking Dad in the eye. He was still pale and slightly gaunt, but his eyes met Jamie's squarely and in deadly earnest. Jamie hugged him once more, fiercely, almost surprised at the sudden warmth in his chest.
"I forgive you, Dad."
Dad kissed the top of his head.
"Thank you, son."
They sat for a while like that, peaceful, until Dad suddenly started.
"Good grief! The bacon."
He deposited Jamie on his feet and sprang towards the stove, shoving the smoking pan out of harm's way.
Jamie giggled, wiping his snotty nose on his pyjama top, and Dad shook a finger at him.
"Your nose is better than mine. You ought to have smelled it sooner."
The bacon wasn't past saving, apparently. Dad ladled the pieces into a plate and then put the greasy pan back on the stove, starting to break eggs into it. Jamie leaned against the counter, close to him, feeling suddenly nervous.
It was great that Dad was back, of course, and it felt wonderful to have cleared the air. But there was still the whole weed debacle, which hadn't been cleared up. At all. And one of the downsides of Dad being back to normal was that he will most likely have a few choice words to say about the matter. Maybe even a few choice swats to hand out.
"Uh, Dad?"
Dad was busy scrambling eggs at top speed, something he believed made them fluffier, but he gave Jamie an encouraging nod.
"Yes, Jamie?"
"About…uh…about yesterday? Are you going to punish me? For the weed and the party and everything?"
Dad seemed to think it over. He didn't answer until the eggs had turned solid, and he'd removed the pan from the stove. Then he turned to Jamie, giving him a very serious look.
"The last thing I want to do right now is spank you," he said slowly, still considering. "But I think, son, that you need things to be normal more than you need a reprieve right now. And normally, I don't think you'd even be asking me this question, right?"
Jamie shook his head, looking at the floor, feeling the familiar twisting feeling in his stomach. It was mostly what he'd expected, and a large part of him knew that Dad was right. He did want things to be normal, or as normal as they could be. And each of the things he'd done yesterday had been spank-worthy offences, let alone all of them together.
"I guess I should have thought about this before making breakfast," Dad said, looking at the eggs rather sadly. "I expect you'd rather we just get it over and done with?"
Although Linda had made him eat a cup of instant tomato soup and some toast last night, Jamie had got up with a growling stomach. But there was no way he could cheerfully stuff himself full of bacon with a Talk looming over him. He nodded.
"Alright, then."
Dad scraped the eggs into another plate and together with the bacon put it into the oven, turning it to a low temperature.
"Go to your room, I'll be there in a minute."
Jamie trudged up the stairs, his feet growing heavier with each step he took. True, one part of him knew this was necessary, but another, rapidly growing part of him was frantically inventing all sorts of ways to talk Dad out of it. An insanity plea maybe? Extenuating circumstances? In a court of law he probably could have gotten a deal, especially with Erin as his lawyer. But even Erin couldn't talk you out of a patented Frank Reagan butt warming, as numerous occasions over the years had shown.
His bed was still a mess and he quickly made it. Then he sat down, as he had done last night, jiggling his leg slightly with nervous energy.
Dad appeared after only a minute or two, carrying the well-worn brown leather belt that usually made its appearance on such occasions. Jamie gulped silently, giving Dad a pleading look. It didn't seem to have a great effect, but Dad did put a comforting hand on his knee when he'd sat down on the bed next to him.
"I don't want there to be any confusion about why I'm spanking you, Jamie. So let's talk everything through, huh? Starting at yesterday morning. Why did you go into the city, after being sent home?"
"I didn't want to come home," Jamie admitted quietly. "The house has been really quiet you know, silent. And it's just hard to be here alone."
"I can understand that. But why not go to Danny's? Or come to the precinct?"
Jamie shook his head, looking at his hands.
"Maybe…" Dad said, also very quietly. "You hoped that someone would notice that you were gone? Which is, I suspect, much the same reason why you decided to go out with Billy Carlotti. You engaged in increasingly dangerous behaviour, hoping that someone would notice and step in."
"Not someone. You."
"Fair enough." Dad squeezed his shoulder. "Look at me, Jamie."
Jamie did, unwillingly, aware that he was beginning to tear up again.
"I understand why you did it, I really do. And I am partly to blame, because I've not been doing right by you. But the fact still remains that you did some really dangerous things. No matter how bad you feel, no matter how tough a situation you are in, endangering your life is never going to earn you a free pass. So I'm going to spank you for going into the city alone, without letting anybody know where you were. I'm also going to spank you for going to that party, with Billy Carlotti. That leaves smoking weed and getting into a car with a driver on drugs. You will never, ever do any of those things again. Understand?"
"Yes, sir. Only – "
"Yes?"
There was a glint of warning in Dad's eyes, but Jamie persisted.
"About Billy Carlotti... He's not a bad kid, Dad."
"He smokes weed, Jamison."
"I know, I do, and I think that's really bad. But he was a good friend to me, yesterday, when I needed it. And I don't mean by giving me weed, that's not being a good friend. But he made me feel welcome, and he didn't just bail on me when the cops showed up and…well, he told me his mom died two years ago too, and his dad's not a nice guy. At all. That's why he started smoking. I'd really…I don't know, but I feel like he really needs a friend."
Dad didn't reply for quite a while, looking at Jamie pensively.
"I still don't like you hanging out with him, but I'll think about it. Okay? If you really feel strongly about it, we can consider you two meeting under controlled circumstances. But you're going to have to give me some time to decide."
"Okay, Dad."
Dad squeezed his shoulder one last time, and then moved away a little. He tapped his knee meaningfully, clearly intending Jamie to get over it. Which Jamie did, slipping down his sweats to his knees. His heart was thumping heavily, his stomach tight with apprehension. Dad drew him closer into his waist, resting a preparatory hand on Jamie's upturned butt.
"So, why are you getting this spanking, Jamison?"
"Going into the city without telling anybody, going to a party without permission and with Billy Carlotti, smoking weed and uh…" His mind scrambled desperately for a moment, striking a blank. "Oh, yes. Getting into a car with a stoned driver."
"Very well."
The warmth of Dad's hand disappeared from his butt, his shorts were whisked down and then the first swat rang out, igniting a much more unpleasant warmth. Jamie barely had time to register it, before a brisk volley of swats was covering his backside. Dad never wasted much time or energy once he got started with a spanking. He merely covered as much ground as possible, seemingly putting his whole weight and enthusiasm into each smack. He didn't talk either, usually, which was just as well since Jamie was in no position for a pleasant conversation.
He was clutching at the covers for dear life, clenching his teeth against the growing fire. He'd probably be sobbing before this was over, but a guy had to keep at least some dignity.
A particularly pointed series of swats, aimed at the sensitive crease between butt and thigh drew a high yelp from him that he couldn't suppress.
"Dad! I'm sorry!"
"I'm not surprised," Dad said, rather grimly. He lifted one thigh, tilting Jamie forward, and landed a few burning smacks to his thighs. Jamie yelped at each one of them, feeling his self-control rapidly beginning to dissolve.
"I won't do it again, I promise!"
"See that you don't, son."
Dad turned his attention back to his butt, laying down smack after burning smack, seemingly not aware of Jamie's increasingly desperate yelps. He tried wiggling away just a little, but Dad tucked him tightly into his stomach and merely increased the speed of his swats.
"Owwww! Daaaad!"
Then, there was a pause and Jamie almost groaned out loud when he heard the clinking of the belt buckle. Dad tucked him closer once more.
"Do you need me to hold your hand, son?"
Jamie shook his head, sniffling.
"Alright. But don't reach back, okay? I don't want to hurt you."
It was a fairly stupid thing to say, considering the fact that Dad was literally about to whip his ass with a belt, but Jamie was fairly sure that it was the wrong time to broach such a topic. And he understood what Dad meant, anyway.
He could have sworn he heard Dad sigh, and then the first stripe fell.
Jamie lost count at around six, too busy crying and pleading and finally simply sobbing bonelessly into the covers. When he was capable of coherent thought again, he realised that it was over, and that Dad was rubbing his back, whispering nonsensical, comforting things. It felt good, even though he was still crying fairly hard.
"I'm sorry, Dad, I really am."
"Shh, kiddo. It's alright now. I forgive you."
Jamie cried a little more at that, relieved to realise the uncomfortable pressure of guilt and shame and just general unpleasantness that had built up in him over the last few days were gone.
Dad helped him stand after a while, pulling up his boxers and drawing him back down into his lap. Right side up this time, so that Jamie could bury his head into his neck. The t-shirt Dad was wearing was soft against his swollen eyes.
"I miss Mom."
Jamie forced himself to say it into the quiet, to reach for that untouchable, bloody wound inside him. It felt safe to do it, for the first time since Mom had died, with Dad's strong arms around him.
Dad held him, waiting until Jamie's sobs had died down again.
"I can't promise you that everything's going to be okay." He could hear tears in Dad's voice. "We're probably all going to miss her until the day we day and get to see her again in a better place. Its always a terrible thing, losing someone you love. But I can promise you, it will become better."
And Jamie believed him.
