Sully pushed the front door open and stepped inside. He saw Sam sitting in the living room, but no sign of Rafe. The kid was probably still sulking in his room. He briefly wondered when that was going to stop, if it ever stopped, but he could worry about that later. "They're bringing the supplies to our porch now. Want to come out and lend a hand?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam set aside a newspaper and got up. It wasn't a current one, it was a week old by now, but that's the best he could get out there.

Every supply drop off came with stacks of different newspapers from the previous week. They wanted to keep up with near-current events during their stay at the house, and there also wasn't a lot of entertainment there; neither of them liked to read books very much. The only reason they had so many of those in the house was because they thought Rafe might get bored without them, and that probably wouldn't turn out well for anyone.

Eventually, when they knew Rafe wasn't going to destroy it out of spite, they planned on installing a TV set to really keep up with things, but that wasn't going to happen for a long, long time.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked as he walked over towards the door.

"Well, they're grumbling about having to be here so soon after the last drop-off, but they really should have known better." Sully took a half-chewed cigar from his mouth. "How were things here? Anything… interesting happen?"

"No, not very," Sam answered, shaking his head. "Rafe's just been in his room. I'm getting the feeling he doesn't want to spend time with me." He smirked a little.

"You think?" Sully chuckled and gave him a pat on his back. "Go on and start getting things organized. You know where you want it all going."

"You just don't want to any heavy lifting yourself," Sam accused lightly, pushing open the door to go outside.

"It can be both," Sully said defensively as he followed him out.

Twenty minutes passed before Rafe's door opened. Sully was back inside, putting away the foods that needed to stay in cold storage, and Sam was outside directing the Shoreline men where to stack things on the porch.

"Do you need any help?" Rafe asked quietly from the hallway.

Sully paused. His voice sounded off… timid even. Something wasn't right. He closed the fridge door partially to glance at the younger man. "If you want to help, go ahead. But you don't have to," he answered, eying him. Rafe was keeping his head turned sideways, keeping one eye fixed on him.

"I don't want to," Rafe muttered, "But I had to ask. Where's Samuel?"

"Outside," Sully said, and he wasn't sure if he should be concerned when Rafe visibly relaxed. He knew Rafe didn't want to be around Sam right now, but this felt different. "Is everything alright, kid?"

"Yeah, peachy," Rafe answered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "If I don't have to help, I'm going back to my room." He turned, carefully keeping the other side of his face away from Sully as he did so, but Sully got a glimpse of it when he started down the hallway.

"Rafe, wait." Sully stepped after him and grabbed his arm, turning him back around. And then he got a good, clear look at his other eye. "What the hell happened to you?"

A huge bruise had formed around his eye and upper cheek, and the entire area looked swollen. Sully reached out touch it, but Rafe flinched away as soon as his fingers made contact.

"What do you think?" Rafe growled, pulling his arm from Sully's grip. He turned that side of his face away again. "Exactly what you wanted to happen happened. Now, if you don't want my help, leave me alone."

Sully was shocked. "I didn't-" He stopped himself and shook his head. Arguing wasn't going to help now. "Go lay down. I'll bring you an ice pack and some tea in a few minutes."

Rafe squinted at him suspiciously, then complied. He turned and went back to his room, closing the door gently behind him. Once the door was closed, he flopped on his bed and smirked to himself. That went perfectly.

Sully opened the front door and stepped out on the porch. "Sam," he said, his voice firm, "Come inside for a minute. I need to talk to you."

Sam looked up from the crate he was inspecting and raised a brow. That was a tone he wasn't used to hearing directed at him. "Yeah, sure," he said, trying not to sound too miffed. He looked over at one of the soldiers. "Just make a new stack for everything else over there." He pointed to a free space. "There's not much left to sort through." When the soldier nodded in acknowledgement, Sam stepped past Sully into the house.

Sully closed the door behind them. "Nothing happened while I was away?" he asked. There was an edge to his voice that Sam didn't like.

"I already told you 'no'," Sam answered, crossing his arms. "Why? Did you find something?"

Sully raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me that you don't think a black eye is worth mentioning?"

"Wait, black eye?" Sam's brows knit together and his nose scrunched up. "What black eye?"

Sully watched his expression skeptically, and took a cigar from his pocket. He began to chew on it out of habit, like he always did when he was concerned or agitated. "The left side of Rafe's face is all bruised up. You were here this whole time and you don't know anything about that? That's hard to believe, Sam. Even if you were sleeping the whole time you would have known something about it."

"How the hell…" Sam rubbed at his forehead and took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts together. "Look, I watched him wash the dishes, then he went to his room. A little while after that I heard his door slam twice. I thought he was just trying to annoy me, because he told me he was fine and to leave him alone. That's all I know. I didn't touch him, Victor."

"His door slammed," Sully repeated.

"Yes," Sam narrowed his eyes. "He either accidentally hurt himself or he did it on purpose, but I had nothing to do with it. You should know me better than that."

Sully mulled it over. If Rafe had been embarrassed over an accident, that would explain his behavior. Still, he couldn't imagine the kid being that clumsy. Not even Nate could accidentally give himself a black eye from a door. "Let me get this straight: Rafe willingly slammed a door in his own face, hard enough to give himself a black eye, and pretended to be nervous just so I'd get mad at you? That…" He frowned as he said it and looked at Sam's hands. They had no bruises or broken skin. "That actually sounds like something he would do."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "It does. I told you last night, he wants to get back at me, and now he knows he can't attack me directly unless he doesn't want to sit all day."

Sully sighed heavily and dropped his cigar back into his pocket. "And I fell for it like a goddamned idiot."

"Yeah," Sam smirked a little. "You did." Then he grew more serious. "Do me a favor and remember that next time, don't just assume it was my fault."

"You're a big brother, everything's your fault," Sully smirked back at him. "Don't worry, I will."

"Oh, you have no idea," Sam nodded, "Good. You got things from here, or do you want me to take care of it?"

"I'll handle it," Sully answered. "Go finish up outside."

"It's about time for a cigarette break," Sam said, reaching for his pack as he walked to the door, "Good luck."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

Sully knocked on Rafe's door and opened it without waiting for a response. He told the kid that he'd be there in a few minutes, so if he walked in on him doing anything, it would be Rafe's own damn fault. He stepped in the doorway with a gel pack, a couple of cotton balls, and a bottle of vodka.

Rafe was laying on his bed, but when he saw the bottle he pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at it. "Just where have you been hiding that?"

"Medicinal use only," Sully responded. "So you don't need to worry about it. Sit up and move over."

Rafe complied and reached for the bottle as Sully settled down on the bed next to him, but the old man pulled it out of reach. "What did I just say?"

"You were serious?" Rafe frowned. "How else are you supposed to take medicine?"

"It's not for drinking," Sully untwisted the cap, then turned the bottle upside-down on one of the cotton balls. "Tilt your head back."

Rafe hesitated, then slowly leaned his head back, watching Sully cautiously. He didn't know what to expect, but he wasn't going to be caught off guard.

"Close your bad eye," Sully instructed as he set the bottle aside. He lightly held Rafe's head to hold it still and began to dab the bruises with vodka. Now that he got a look in good light, he could see the line where the edge of the door hit his skin, right along the side of his nose to the ridge above his eye.

"Why are you doing that?" Rafe asked suspiciously. He was expecting it to sting, but it didn't do anything other than cool his skin. Sully was surprisingly gentle when he wanted to be.

"Old navy trick," Sully answered absently, "Vodka helps the bruise shrink and heal faster."

"I would have thought the navy guys liked to show off their bruises," Rafe commented. "I thought you liked to look tough."

"Not when we weren't supposed to be fighting with each other," Sully smirked, then let go so he could soak another cotton ball. "It happened more often than you'd think. This might be the first time I've treated something self-inflicted like this, though."

He looked up from the cotton to see Rafe's reaction. The younger man tensed up for a second, then he relaxed just as quickly. Instead of protesting, he grinned smugly. "Well," he said with a shrug, "It was worth a shot."

"Was it really?" Sully asked, pulling Rafe close again so he could dab some more vodka to the worst parts of the bruise.

"It almost worked, didn't it?" Rafe asked, watching him calmly from his good eye. When Sully didn't answer, he laughed. That was enough of a confirmation for him. "Besides, it's not like you can hit me for hitting myself. That'd be counter-productive. What can you do?"

He had a point. Sully looked his face over, making sure he had covered it enough, then he screwed the cap back on the bottle. "Don't worry about what I'll do yet." He picked up the gel pack he'd brought with him and held it out. "Just keep this on your eye for now and worry about that instead. I put the water on before coming in, it should be starting to boil. Did you want some tea?"

"Sure, why not?" Rafe answered as he took the offered pack. He flinched slightly when he pressed it to his face. Whatever the vodka did, it didn't numb the pain. "Did you get that Earl Grey I asked for?"

"We have it somewhere," Sully answered. "I'll bring you a cup in a few minutes." He stood and took the cotton balls and bottle with him as he left Rafe's room.

By now Sam was back in the kitchen, re-stocking the cabinet. He saw Sully walk in to put the vodka away. "That was fast."

"I'm not going to spank him," Sully answered the question that he knew Sam would ask.

"Again?" Sam shook his head. "Victor, you're going soft on me."

"If you think that then you don't know me very well," Sully said, leaning casually against the counter. "At the heart of it, all Rafe did was lie to me. He's good at manipulating, we both knew that, but we never really talked about what we should do when he tried it on us."

"Yeah, that's because we already decided on a good punishment for him." Sam put his hands on his hips. "We didn't need to talk about it."

"Well," Sully crossed his arms, "I've thought of a more fitting punishment, but once I go through with it I'll set a precedent. I thought I'd talk with you about it first to make sure you didn't mind."

Sam subconsciously mimicked his posture. Now he was curious. "Why? What are you going to do?"

Rafe sat propped against his pillow, gel pack on his eye, with his head cocked to the side. He had his book from last night resting on his lap, and he had to squint to be able to see the words on the page. It was hard reading with just one eye, thanks to the pack. He had to start over at the beginning of the book because he hadn't absorbed anything from it the day before, and was actually enjoying it this time through. His tea was already gone, and it had been much more satisfying than the leaf-water Sully had given him last time.

Someone knocked on his door. That meant it was time for his lecture. "Come in," he said, "It's not my house."

"It's still your room," Sully commented as he opened the door. He walked over to Rafe's bed and pulled at his wrist. "Let me see." When the gel pack was out of the way, he inspected the bruising. "Swelling's gone down. It looks better already," he smirked. "Told you, old navy tricks work."

"Or maybe the cold helps, like any sane person would think," Rafe muttered, pushing the pack back to his eye. He was only doing it for effect at this point, because by now it had warmed to room temperature.

"Maybe it's both." Sully stepped back, satisfied that Rafe had recovered enough. He took the pack out of Rafe's hand. "Get up and come with me to the bathroom."

Rafe remained where he was and raised a brow. "Do you even know how that sounds?"

Sully shrugged. "Can you think of a better way to put it?"

He couldn't. "Why do you want me in the bathroom?" Rafe asked instead. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to know.

"Why do you think?"

"My punishment?"

"Bingo."

Rafe glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "Is Sam still inside?"

"Yes, he is," Sully answered. "He's putting the rest of the food away."

"Then no." Rafe turned his attention back to his book.

"That's not really your choice," Sully said, crossing his arms. He straightened his back and fixed Rafe with a stern look. "Get up and come with me."

Rafe wasn't impressed. Even with what happened the day before, he still didn't see Sully as much of a threat. "Tell Sam to leave first."

Sully held his ground, looking him in the eye. "I'm not going to spank you, Rafe. He won't hear anything if you don't make a big deal out of it; unless, of course, I have to force you to come with me. That would be a different story."

Rafe eyed him again, then let out a heavy sigh and marked his page in the book. "Fine. Just get it over with and leave me alone." He stood up as casually as possible, not wanting to appear intimidated, and followed Sully to the bathroom.

Sully left the door open behind them and washed his hands at the sink, leaving Rafe to stand by and wonder what was going to happen. When they were clean, he grabbed a fresh bottle of soap from under the sink, then he opened a cabinet and grabbed a washcloth. He held it up to Rafe. "It was washed when we first got it, but we haven't used it yet," he said.

"And why, exactly, are you telling me this?" Rafe asked. He was watching everything carefully with his arms crossed, trying to figure out what Sully was up to.

"Because I don't want you complaining about germs," he answered as he ran the washcloth under the tap, then pumped some soap on it. "Open your mouth."

Suddenly, it clicked. "Oh, fuck no!" Rafe growled and took a step back. "No way!" He couldn't believe that Sully would even suggest doing that to him!

"Rafe," Sully kept his tone even, "Lying isn't respectful, and I am not a pawn. Get over here and open your mouth. Now."

"That is not going to happen," Rafe glared at him. "That is where I draw the line!"

"You don't get to decide the line," Sully replied. "Are you telling me that you don't think you can handle getting your mouth washed out?"

If looks could kill, Sully would have died ten times over with the one he was getting.

Rafe's stomach was burning with anger, but Sully's implication didn't give his pride much of a choice. He had been through two children's punishments already, was this one going to be so bad?

Yes, he told himself, this was beyond humiliating.

But now Sully had issued a challenge, and he couldn't back down without giving the impression that this punishment scared him. That would be even worse. Besides, if he kept resisting, Sully might call Sam in to help, and that would be something his ego could never recover from.

How bad could soap really taste?

Stubbornly, he straightened to his full height and stepped closer to Sully, keeping his arms crossed. Fine. He would suffer the embarrassment once, nothing would happen, and then he'd never have to go through with it again. He couldn't bring himself to open his mouth for Sully, though. That was asking too much.

Sully watched him silently. That was honestly more than he expected Rafe to do. He thought he'd have to drag him to the sink and pry his teeth apart. "I said open, kid."

Rafe shook his head quickly. "No," he said through grit teeth. "This is as much as you're going to get from me."

"Alright," Sully said. This was like the spanking all over again; Rafe was complying to a point, but he was making Sully work to actually go through with it. Well, he could handle that. He stepped to Rafe's side so he could reach behind him, ignoring the frosty look sent his way, and gave him a firm smack on his bottom.

Rafe was expecting him to start calling Sam, not that. He jumped and opened his mouth to protest, and suddenly he was tasting cloth.

Cloth, and the single worst thing that had ever been in his mouth in his entire life.

He gagged and tried to twist his head away, but Sully already had a hand on the back on his head holding him steady. Biting down didn't do anything because the damned washcloth protected Sully's fingers. His face flushed.

Sully quickly ran the cloth over Rafe's tongue. He didn't want to cause the kid too much discomfort, but he also wanted to make sure he got a good taste throughout his whole mouth so he'd remember this. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use this punishment too many times before Rafe decided it just wasn't worth it.

Rafe reached up to push Sully away, but the cloth was pulled out of his mouth before he could. He coughed and quickly turned his back to Sully so he couldn't see how red his face had turned. The soap was slimy and bitter, with a sharp taste that completely overwhelmed his senses. It was even making him start to tear up. He needed it out of his mouth now before it made him cry. He stepped towards the sink.

"Don't spit it out yet," Sully ordered lowly, "Not until I tell you to." He didn't want to embarrass Rafe further by being loud enough for Sam to hear.

Rafe set his eyes on the older man, thoughts of murder on his mind, his anger overpowering the need to hide his face. The intensity of the soap was messing with his mind even more than the pain in his rear did before, and he had no control over his body's reaction. It was making him drool, and that only created foam, which pooled towards the back of his throat and made him gag even more. He was pretty sure that mustard gas wouldn't be as cloying as this was.

Sully threw the washcloth into the sink. "No more lying, and no more manipulating," he warned, "Or this is going to happen again." When he was sure that his point was made, he opened the medicine cabinet and took out a small paper cup, then filled it halfway with water. "Go ahead and spit. You can only use this for rinse, though." He wanted the taste to linger, so he wasn't going to let him wash it completely away.

Rafe stepped over to the sink, deliberately pacing himself, and, with what little dignity he could muster, he spat out his mouthful. He glared at Sully out of the corner of his eye as he reached for his cup. "Get out." Rinsing his mouth out like that was too degrading for someone else to see.

Sully shook his head. "Not yet."

"I'm not going to use any more water than this. Get. Out."

"You do not get to make demands," Sully reminded him. "Rinse if you want to, or don't. I don't care. I'm not going to leave until you've calmed back down."

Rafe grit his teeth as he felt his blood pressure rising. The bruises on his face throbbed, making his eye twitch. He gripped the sink tightly in one hand, and the other clenched around the paper cup, crushing it and splashing water all over.

Sully wasn't an idiot. "Go to your room before you do something stupid," he said, using a gentler tone, "Come find me when you're ready to talk."

Rafe threw the cup into the sink angrily and left the bathroom without a word. He slammed his bedroom door behind him.

Who the fuck did Sully think he was?!

His temper was telling him to go back to the bathroom and break that old man's jaw, and maybe his back, and a few ribs for good measure. That would teach him not to treat him like a fucking child who didn't know lying was frowned upon.

The more rational part of his brain told him to calm down, that he had to play along just until he was freed, and then he could do whatever he wanted to them when he had hired guns on his side. He had to remember that he couldn't overpower both Sam and Sully at the same time, and even if he locked the door Sam would still be able to get to him before Sully was incapacitated. It would only give them an excuse to spank him again.

The soap that still lingered in his mouth made it impossible for him to forget the humiliation, though, and it was taking a large effort to get his temper back under control. One thing was certain; he was not going to go back out and talk to Sully about this, even if he calmed down.

Once Rafe left the bathroom, Sully let out a breath he had been holding and cleaned up the sink area. Then he went back to the kitchen to finish unpacking the cold foods. Sam had the pantry open and was bringing in supplies from the porch. He raised a brow, but Sully shook his head. They would talk about how it went later.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence, and then the door to Rafe's room opened. The kid appeared in the hallway, looking much more collected than he had when he rushed out of the bathroom, and calmly walked towards Sully.

Then he clenched his hand into a fist and cracked it against Sully's chin as hard as he could.