Sully stumbled back and fell to the floor in shock from the punch. Goddamn it, he probably should have been expecting that. When he sent Rafe to his room, the kid was still on edge. Did he really think he'd calm down that quickly?

He braced himself for another hit, but he never got one.

Rafe only wanted to send a message that he was tired of being treated like a child and he wasn't going to allow it anymore, and one hit was all he needed for that. Sully wasn't like Sam, he didn't have a thick skull that needed to be repeatedly kicked and punched, even after the message was conveyed. But, before he could open his mouth to tell him to knock it off with the children's punishments, he was roughly grabbed under the arms and lifted off his feet.

He immediately tensed and kicked out to right himself, because getting picked up wasn't exactly something he was used to. Right now, he really hated the fact that the other two occupants in the house were a good half-head taller than he was. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but normally people didn't treat him like a fucking kid, either. "Samuel," he growled, "If you don't put me down now I'll-"

"You'll what?" Sam interrupted. "What can you do to me from the air, tough guy? You really don't weigh that much; I can hold you here as long as I want, and I'm not gonna put you down until you cool off and quit being so punch-happy. So, take a deep breath, stop being an asshole, and you'll get to stand on your own."

"It was one punch, that's not punch-happy! I was already done before you decided to interfere," Rafe protested. He turned his head, trying to get a lock on Sam's exact location. Judging by what he could see and the direction of Sam's voice, he was being held slightly above his head, about a foot in front of the older Drake. That meant a backwards head-butt was out of the question. He tried to reach back and grab a handful of Sam's hair, or poke his eye, or just find something to his advantage.

Sam saw his hand reaching for his face and immediately let Rafe drop a few inches, catching him before his feet could reach the floor and shocking him out of the attempt. "Yeah, you're not exactly proving your point here," he said wryly as he raised him back up again. His voice sounded slightly strained by the effort, but then again it could have been the years of nicotine plaque built up in his lungs, too. "Knock it off."

Rafe huffed in frustration and tried two more times with the same result. He kicked, but he didn't have the momentum to swing his feet back hard enough, and even if that was possible he couldn't reach any sensitive areas. Only when he had exhausted all of his other options did he take a deep breath and went still, holding his arms out in surrender. "Fine, you win. I'm calm."

"Glad to hear it." Sam lowered him back down, but stopped just when Rafe's toes barely touched the floor. He leaned his head down to speak directly into his ear. "Now, you are gonna go to your room. You're gonna leave your door open, and you're gonna sit and wait on your bed. Got it?"

"Fuck you," Rafe answered evenly.

"Good." Sam let go of him completely, dropping him on his feet.

Rafe stumbled a little, then caught his balance and stood up straight, squaring his shoulders. He walked forward without so much as a glance at the other men.

Sam kept an eye on him until he disappeared down the hallway, then he turned his attention on Sully, who by now had gotten back on his feet and was leaning unsteadily on the counter. "You okay?"

Sully rubbed at his jaw. There was a dull ache running through his teeth to his temple, and his throat and eye were throbbing in sympathy, but it didn't feel like anything was broken. "I've had worse," he answered, "That kid can pack a punch, though."

"You're preaching to the choir," Sam scoffed. His own bruises that Rafe had given him were still tender. He stepped closer to get a look at Sully for himself, just to be sure nothing was too bad. "Want me to get you some ice?" he asked, prodding the spot where it looked the worst.

"I'm fine," Sully frowned and lightly pushed him away. "Quit mother-henning. I've been taking care of myself since long before you were born."

"Don't worry, I'm not," Sam smirked a little and stepped back. "I'm trying to save my ears, and whatever's left of my sanity. If I let anything happen to you here then I'll never hear the end of it."

Sully looked at him, then smirked back and started to rub his jaw again. "Yeah, you're right, I didn't think of that. There'd be whining for days. Nate'd never shut up. Even my ears would be ready to fall off."

"Not to mention the tantrums. It'd be awful," Sam agreed, chuckling. It probably wasn't fair to his younger brother, but it wasn't like he was there to hear it. "He's not light enough to me to just pick up and put an end to it, either."

Sully glanced towards Rafe's room and lowered his voice. "Speaking of whining, you can probably expect some for that. I think it's safe to say you're not his favorite person at the moment."

"Was I ever? Somehow, I think I'll live." Sam crossed his arms, matching Sully's volume. "But when he dropped me yesterday he tried to kick my head, and I didn't want to chance that happening again. Your head can't take quite as much as mine can."

Sully shrugged. "I'm not saying you didn't have your reasons, I'm just saying don't be surprised if you hear about it later. Then again, this is Rafe; he might keep quiet and just glare at you for the rest of the day, too. I'll do my best to smooth it over, after he and I have our talk." His jaw was feeling better; not great, but good enough that he felt ready to go and deal with the kid.

"Oh, no," Sam shook his head and pulled a chair out from the table. "You sit down and rest, have a beer or something. This time I'm taking care of it."

Rafe sat on his bed with his arms crossed. He was straining to hear what the two others were saying, but they were speaking too quietly for him to make out any words other than Sam making sure the old man was alright. It didn't really matter, though, he knew what they were talking about. Any minute Sully was going to walk in and tell him to get across his lap, then harp on how he really didn't want to do this but it was Rafe's choice, and how he was just trying to help in the long run. It was all a load of bullshit.

Then the door swung inwards without a knock, and Sam walked in. "You know," he commented, closing it behind him, "When I said leave the door open, I didn't mean by just an inch."

Rafe narrowed his eyes and brought his legs up to back to the other side of the bed, crossing his arms protectively over his chest when he got there. He wasn't expecting Sam, and he didn't like seeing him at all. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know what I'm doing here," Sam looked at him, then walked over to his bed. For someone who laughed at the idea of getting spanked yesterday, he sure seemed pretty intimidated. "Quit sulking and we can just get this over with."

"That's not going to fucking happen," Rafe glared at him. "I'll talk with Sully, not you. Get out." Who the fuck did Sam think he was?

Sam shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes on Rafe. He didn't want any more surprise bruises. "We both know that's not how it works. If you want Sully to spank you instead, then next time you have the urge to punch someone, you come after me. Get over here."

Rafe blushed furiously. "That's not what I meant!" He didn't want anyone to spank him, it was just a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. In the back of his mind he had the idea that Sam might be using that phrasing just to get him to shut up, but he really didn't think Sam was capable of that level of scheming.

"I don't care. You're behaving like a royal brat right now, Rafe. If I have to start counting to get you over here then you won't like what I do when I get to 'one'," Sam warned him, keeping his voice even. Jesus, he thought he was done with 'the teenage years' a long time ago.

"I don't like what you're doing now," Rafe retaliated. "Call me a brat all you want, I'm still not moving anywhere until you leave and Sullivan comes in here."

"Fair enough." Sam stood up, and he saw Rafe's eyes light up from the thought that he won the argument. It was time to crush that hope. He leaned over to grab Rafe's leg and yank him across the bed.

Rafe yelped at the sudden upset of balance and he found himself staring at the ceiling. He pushed himself up on his elbows and glared at Sam. "Let go of me!" He accentuated that demand by drawing back his free leg and lining up a kick for Sam's face.

Sam easily grabbed his other ankle before he could follow through, though, then he twisted Rafe's legs and forced him onto his stomach. Rafe reacted by grabbing onto the edge of the bed to anchor himself, and he kicked his legs to try to break Sam's grip on them.

Sam almost had to let go, but he got both legs under one arm and hugged them to his side, then grabbed the back of Rafe's pants to pull him over. "I'll let go of you when you agree to stop acting like a brat and just take your spanking."

"I will take my punishment," Rafe growled, "From Sully, not from you!" He moved one hand from the edge of his bed to his waistband so his pants wouldn't slip off; he couldn't let that happen. The other hand kept its grip. He spent too much time climbing across cliffs and over buildings to lose his hold that easily.

"Oh yeah?" Sam grunted with exertion, "Well, Sully is indisposed, thanks to you, so you'll just have to deal with it." He sat down, keeping Rafe's legs tucked against his side, which forced him to let go of the bed because of the way his body twisted. Then he tugged him onto his lap.

Rafe wasn't ready to give up yet. He leveraged his upper half up behind Sam's back and reached out to wrap an arm around his neck. "I will choke you if I have to, Sam!" he growled, letting his supporting arm go limp to put all the pressure of his body weight against Sam's throat.

Sam quelled the urge to let go of Rafe and free himself. He had learned a long time ago not to panic when things like this happened, or they just got worse. Instead, he got one of his legs around Rafe's to pin them in place, then he forced a hand up between his neck and the crook of Rafe's arm. He made his other hand into a fist and slammed it against Rafe's elbow, hitting the ulna.

A sharp, unpleasant tingling sensation ran up Rafe's elbow to his fingers, and for a moment his arm involuntarily went limp. "Shit!" he groaned as he fell back on the bed, losing all of his support. Before he could recover, Sam pulled him further over his lap by the hips so he couldn't twist behind his back anymore. Then he grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the small of his back.

When that was done Rafe's legs were freed and moved to dangle off of Sam's knee, and he was trapped in that position. Rafe really wished his body would stop betraying him like that.

"There we go." Sam sighed. He was breathing heavily from all the effort, but hopefully it was over now. He looked down at the body laying across his lap. "Are you done yet?" he asked.

Rafe could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and he hoped it meant he was too tired to do any real damage to his ass. He rolled back and forth, testing the strength of Sam's hold on him, then finally went limp. "I guess so," he answered, "For now."

"Good. Trust me, you'll have a lot more to worry about than trying to kill me soon enough," Sam commented. He moved Rafe's wrists so he could hold them both in one hand, then raised his other and brought it down hard across his bottom.

Rafe's face flushed as the reality of his situation sunk in, but he kept himself from flinching. He, Rafe Adler, was getting spanked again by Samuel Drake, something he swore to himself over and over in his cell that he wouldn't allow to happen again. But now that it started, there was a small bit of hope left: he only had to fight against one of Sam's hands to be free.

He held his breath, waiting for Sam's grip to relax a little now that he thought he had him trapped, then, when the timing was right, he wrenched his wrists against each other as hard as he could. At the same time he pulled his hands down towards his stomach.

"Ow!" Sam cursed as his fingers were pinched and forced apart by the move, making him let go momentarily. Instead of going directly for his wrists again, he grabbed Rafe in the crooks of his elbows and pulled his arms back. "Really, Rafe? Can you just let me do this? It's not like I want to spend my afternoon spanking you." In a matter of seconds he regained control of Rafe's hands and pinned them higher up behind his back where he had less mobile control.

"It's not like I want to spend an afternoon doing anything with you," Rafe snarled. Why weren't any of his escape attempts working?! He knew Sam wasn't a better fighter than him! If he had been able to work out in his cell, and if this was on fair fighting grounds, he knew the older Drake would never have a chance. "So why don't you get out of here and when Sully's done nursing his bump then he can come in to talk to me, and then I'll cooperate."

"You mean to spank you," Sam corrected. He noticed that even Rafe's ears were red at this point. He really hated having that word pointed out to him, and Sam had no problem using it to bring him back to reality. "I already told you that's not how it's gonna be. Stop demanding, you're not a prince here."

Rafe didn't reply. A fiery knot was forming in his stomach, and his anger was nearly palpable. How dare Samuel talk to him like that?! In all the years he had known him, he could have- should have- killed him many times, but he didn't. Now Sam was trying to act all high and mighty, and he had the nerve to act like Rafe was the spoiled one? No, he was definitely going to get revenge in the most painful way imaginable.

Sam eyed Rafe for a moment, trying to figure out if he was listening or blocking everything out. Then he shrugged and decided it didn't matter. If he didn't listen to his words, he'd be listening to his hand soon enough. Maybe he'd finally learn that he didn't own everything in the world and that things wouldn't be handed to him on a silver platter in this house, and that he couldn't just throw a tantrum when things didn't go his way. If Rafe's parents were still alive, he'd sue for all the trouble they caused by raising him like that.

He shifted a little and adjusted Rafe over his lap, making sure that he wouldn't be able to try anything else, then he brought his hand down firmly across the center of his bottom.

Rafe squeezed his eyes shut and tried to relax. He wanted to tense up against the pain, but he knew that he had to save his strength for later when it became unbearable and he really had to fight to keep still. For now, all he could do was keep himself from squirming or moving too much, and keep his goddamn voice on mute.

Sam spanked him quietly for a few moments, spreading out the swats evenly. No matter where he hit, though, he couldn't get a reaction from Rafe, even when he smacked his sit-spots. He wasn't going to hit harder, especially since it was just starting and he didn't want to overwhelm Rafe- or kill his hand- despite what the other might think. He figured the brat was in denial and pretending that it wasn't happening. He wasn't going to let him have that delusion for long; checking out of reality would only add time before it was over.

"You know," Sam remarked, trying to engage him, "I wouldn't have thought a tough guy with your reputation would punch an old man just because you couldn't handle the taste of soap."

Rafe grit his teeth. It wasn't just about the soap. It was about dignity, and not letting people walk over you- it was just good business to take control of those situations before they got too far. Even if it didn't work out in his favor, Sully at least knew that he wasn't going to sit by and let things happen to him now. But, even if Sam knew what those concepts meant, he didn't think his mind could handle anything more complex than a two-piece puzzle. He wasn't capable of understanding why Rafe had punched the old man.

"My reputation is that I don't let people who cross me get away with it," he explained with a strained voice. "I'd say that fits in pretty well."

"Yeah?" Sam aimed two swats in a row at his right sit-spot, finally feeling the slightest jump from him. Good, talking made him focus on the present. He continued doubling the swats to make them harder to ignore. "Is that the real reason you gave yourself a black eye? You think you crossed yourself just by ending up in this house instead of negotiating with us back on the ship?"

"Fuck you, Samuel."

Sam paused and rested his hand on Rafe's back. "Are you sure you want to say that to me right now?" he asked pointedly.

"Just because you think you have me vulnerable doesn't mean I'm going to walk on eggshells," Rafe turned his head to glance over his shoulder as best as he could in that position, just so Sam could feel the full venom behind his words. "I'll say it again: fuck you, Samuel Drake."

"As long as you're sure." Sam shrugged and moved his hand down to Rafe's pants, slipping his fingers under his waistband. "See, I know Victor already gave you a warning about insults when you're getting spanked." Without giving him a chance to protest, he yanked his pants down and worked them to his knees, leaving him with only boxer briefs for protection.

Rafe's entire body went stiff with indignation, and his face turned a deeper shade of red, if possible. He was frozen in place until he felt a strike on the now-bare skin of his upper thigh. This time he couldn't stop himself from jumping and yelping with indignation. "S-Sam!" he finally sputtered, "Put my pants back up now!"

"No," Sam said simply, smacking his other thigh, "You already got your warning. You break a rule, you deal with the consequences. You won't be able to wheedle your way out of this, Rafe." Sam could feel him taking a deep breath, and he quickly gripped the waistband of Rafe's underwear before he could say whatever was building in his throat. "Go on, threaten me and curse at me some more. See how that turns out for you."

Rafe swallowed, choking back the words he was about to spit out. He could feel a blush creeping over his neck and shoulders and down his spine. The thought of being over Sam's knee, bare-assed, with no protection alone was more humiliation than he could endure. If it actually happened he was pretty certain that he would literally die.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and lowered his head until his blanket pressed against his forehead. It took him a few seconds to find his voice. "Sam," he said with calmness he didn't feel, "Let go of my hands."

"What?" Sam raised a brow and let go of his waistband. That wasn't the direction he was expecting this conversation to take. "Are you serious? After how much trouble you were giving me earlier, you really think I'm going to let you go?" He scoffed. "Sorry Rafe, but no-can-do."

"Samuel." Rafe paused when a bit of desperation mixed into his voice, and he cleared his throat to steady it again. He was going to hate himself for saying this, but he had to win this one. "Please. Let go of my hands."

Sam hesitated. He really didn't trust Rafe, but in all the years he had known him he had never once heard the word 'please' come out of his mouth except by sarcasm. Maybe it was a sign that the punishment was finally taking hold. "Alright," he agreed, "But if you try to fight me again then I'm going to find something worse than my hand to spank you with."

Rafe nodded slightly in acknowledgement, keeping his head down. As soon as the pressure on his wrists eased up, he wrapped his arms around his head and buried his face against an elbow. That made him feel a little bit better about his current situation. If he cried this time, at least Sam wouldn't be able to see it, and hopefully his head was too far up his own ass for him to be able to hear it, too.

Sam tucked Rafe's side under his arm to keep him in place. For once, he wasn't quite sure that he knew what to do. He had seen many sides of Rafe, along with many different reactions to things, but this one was new. He didn't think he was acting, either. The younger man was too proud to voluntarily let anyone see him so defenseless, even if it was going to get him out of trouble. He suspected that was part of the reason why Rafe went crazy in the treasure room to begin with.

Still, he had started this punishment, and now he had to end it. They were both long ready for it to be over. He quietly began to spank him again, concentrating the swats on his sit-spots and thighs. Hopefully that would speed things along.

Rafe kept his breathing as even as he could. He didn't want to give Sam the satisfaction of seeing him break, though at this point he didn't trust his body enough to hope that he could make it. He tried to distract himself from his embarrassment and the heat that was quickly building in his backside by thinking through the many, many slow and painful ways he could kill Sam once he had his resources back.

However, it had only been a day since Rafe had been spanked last. He thought he had almost fully recovered overnight, but now his butt was remembering just how much pain it had been in before, and it wasn't taking nearly as long for it to reach those levels again. Not only that, but he was finding that his muscles were still sore and weak from the fight for control over Sully's knee, too. Rafe tensed and tried to stop himself, but soon he couldn't keep his body from squirming and kicking on reflex.

Worse yet, the bruises he had given himself on his face seemed to sympathize with his bottom. The more he moved, the more his blood flowed, and the more his eye began to throb. Instead of distracting him from the spanking, the two areas of hurt seemed to be complementing each other, increasing the pain exponentially with each hit.

That pain, along with his humiliation, muscle exhaustion, and the bitterness that it was Sam doing this to him all funneled down into the formation of one of the worst headaches he'd had in a long time. The accumulation of it all was becoming more than even his stubbornness could handle.

His black eye started leaking tears first, but it didn't take long for his other eye to follow suit. He couldn't stop the sobbing from coming, but he bit his shirt sleeve and pressed his mouth and nose against his arm to at least muffle the sounds. His shoulders shook with the effort of keeping himself contained. Then, with one last futile kick, his body gave up the struggle.

Sam stopped as soon as he felt Rafe collapse. Jesus, it took him damn long enough. He let go of his side and, as gently as he could, tugged his pants back up in place to give him a little dignity back.

That had gone a lot rougher than Sam was expecting. He knew before he started that he wasn't exactly going to enjoy spanking Rafe, but he at least thought he'd feel satisfied that the younger man was getting what he deserved for once in his life.

Now, though, it was getting a lot harder to see Rafe as nothing more than an unfeeling, spoiled, rich brat who thought of other people as disposable and who threw tantrums to get his way. Rafe was crying, and now all Sam could think of was Nathan after he'd gotten himself into deep trouble. Those times had always left Sam with a terrible, sinking feeling in his stomach. Sure, the punishment was deserved, but he still knew that he had caused his little brother a lot of pain, and that always made him feel guilty.

And now his instincts were screaming at him to try and offer some comfort to the younger man. It was too bad 'comfort' had never really been his strong suit.

Sam began to rub circles on his back to calm him down, and right away felt that his shirt was damp with sweat. He frowned. "Rafe, are you alright?"

There wasn't an answer. Rafe hadn't fought him that much once the spanking actually started, so there wasn't any reason for him to be that stressed. He tried to put his hand on Rafe's forehead to feel for a fever, but Rafe shook his hand off and sunk his head further down into the protection that his arms provided.

Sam sighed heavily. Now he was worried that something was really wrong, but he couldn't do anything until Rafe was calmed down. There was only one thing that ever worked with Nate when he was that upset, apart from a large mug of hot cocoa. He carefully grabbed Rafe under the arms and pulled him up, being careful not to put any pressure on his bottom, and he put his arms around him in a hug. "It's over now, brat. Just take deep breaths."

It took Rafe a second to realize what was happening, then his whole body went rigid with shock. He stopped sobbing and just froze. As soon as he recovered, and he shoved against Sam's chest as hard as he could, jumping to his feet and pushing the older Drake down at the same time.

"Don't you ever. Fucking. Touch me again!" he growled, quickly wiping the tears out of his eyes. "Get out of my room."

Sam pushed himself up to sit, unsure what to do about this chain of events. He held up a hand placatingly. "Rafe, calm down…"

"Get. Out!" Rafe yelled it this time, pointing at his door.

"Alright," Sam slowly stood, keeping his hands up like he was backing from a wild animal, "I'm going, there's no need to get all worked up. I wasn't trying to do anything to you, Rafe. I was just trying to help."

Rafe turned his head and focused on the wall, seeing red. If Sam wasn't out of there soon, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from using his fists, and then he'd just end up in trouble again. It would almost be worth it, as long as Sully was the one to 'talk' with him this time.

He heard Sam leave, and when the footsteps reached the end of the hallway he slammed his door shut as hard as he could. He paced his room for a few moments, rubbing his bottom furiously to both work the heat out and vent his pent-up energy. He was still exhausted, though, and even his anger couldn't fuel him for long. He wiped his eyes again, then flopped down on his bed to hide his face in his pillow. He was going to do his best to forget that this whole day even happened.

Sam walked into the kitchen and flinched when he heard the door slam. He didn't know how things went south so suddenly.

Sully was leaning on the counter by the stove. He had popped a few pain killers after Sam left and they were starting to kick in. Now he was just waiting for the burner to heat up and the water to boil so he could make some tea. He raised a brow at Sam. "That sounded like it didn't end too well."

"That would be because Rafe is a psychopath," Sam complained, walking over to the locked cabinet where they hid the alcohol. He fished in his pocket for the keys.

"Right, of course." The teapot started whistling, so Sully turned the burner off and filled his cup. "So, what did you do?"

"What makes you think I did something?" Sam looked over his shoulder after getting the cabinet unlocked.

Sully glanced at him. "What did you do?" he repeated.

Sam sighed and pulled out a pair of beers, locking the cabinet again when he was done. He snapped one open and took a swig before answering. "He was crying. What was I supposed to do, leave him like that? I just tried to hug him, and he overreacted." The beer wasn't enough, he needed a cigarette too. He put the can on the counter and got one out from his pocket.

"Ah," Sully nodded and dropped a teabag in. Suddenly everything made sense. "Yeah, this one's on you."

"It was a hug, Victor!" It took Sam a few tries to get the lighter working, then he took a deep drag. The nicotine seeped into his lungs and blood system, and almost instantly he felt a soothing calm wash over his nerves. He grabbed his beers and carried them over to the table, then slumped into a chair.

Sully turned towards him. "You thought it was just a hug. He didn't. Didn't I tell you that he was going to interpret everything in a bad light?" He held a hand up before Sam could argue. "Think back to the first time I took my belt to you. You were, what, nineteen? You thought Nate was running drugs while you were at work because you found a bunch of unexplainable cash in his sock drawer-"

"-And after I freaked out and spanked him, I found out he was going door to door for odd jobs and saving up for a present for my birthday," Sam muttered, "Of course I remember, I felt terrible after that. I should have known he wouldn't do something so stupid, but a lot of the kids in the kitchen at the restaurant were into drugs, and I wasn't thinking straight."

"You felt so bad that you asked me to help you with some of the guilt," Sully continued, bringing him back on track, "Because you thought you deserved it."

"And that has nothing to do with anything right now," Sam took a sip of beer, "So why are you bringing it up?"

"Give me a moment and I'll tell you," Sully smirked a little. The Drake family was so goddamned impatient. "You were a pretty big mess after I was done. You probably don't even remember that part, that's how out of it you were. It was the first time I had ever seen you like that; up to that point you had always treated me like a threat, like you thought I was going to hurt Nate or take him from you. You were pretty goddamn pathetic, is what I'm trying to get across here. Now, if I tried to hug you right then in the middle of that mess, would you have taken that kindly?"

Sam looked away, thinking about it. No, he wouldn't have wanted Sully to pity him, and he wouldn't have trusted his motives, either. He had a lot of pride back then. Still did, if he was honest, but not half as much as before. His past self didn't trust or want to depend on anyone for anything. A hug would have been a huge insult. Younger Sam Drake was pretty stupid, thinking back. "Alright, I get your point," he said quietly. "You weren't family, and I wouldn't have liked it at all."

"Not to mention you couldn't pretend that I didn't know you were crying if you were two inches from my face," Sully said wryly.

Sam looked at him skeptically. "What? I didn't cry. You never made me cry."

"Oh yes you did," Sully scoffed, "You cried like a bitch, but no one could blame you. You probably blocked those memories out, it didn't fit the 'tough guy' persona you had going on."

Sam rolled his eyes and took a long drag from his cigarette. "Fine, if that's what you want to think then go ahead. How can I fix what happened with Rafe, though?"

Sully got a spoon and stirred the tea a little, then took the bag out and squeezed it. He added a bit of milk and sugar. "I'll try to take as much edge off of it as I can. Don't worry, he'll get over it eventually." He picked up the mug and smiled at Sam. "For now, I'd give him some space, or you both might have matching shiners."

That said, he left Sam to his vices and walked down the hallway towards Rafe's room.

Rafe heard a knock on his door, and he barely had time to roll his back towards it before he heard it open. "Sam," he growled, "When I said 'get out', I meant 'stay out'."

"And that's exactly what he's doing," Sully commented, closing the door behind him.

Rafe pushed himself up and turned in surprise. He thought Sully wouldn't want to see him for the rest of the day. Then he realized why he must be there, and he sighed and flopped onto his pillow, keeping an eye on the older man. "Look, I know you want to 'talk' to me, but at least give me a chance to recover. Can't this wait 'til tonight?"

Sully glanced over the kid and frowned a little. Rafe's eyes were red and his face was blotchy, at least where it wasn't bruised. He looked worse for the wear than he had yesterday, although yesterday Sully didn't really see his face until he had completely calmed himself.

He walked towards the bed, offering the tea. "Don't worry, Sam did all the 'talking' you're getting. You're not ever going to be punished for the same thing twice, alright? I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you're ok."

Rafe eyed him suspiciously, then took the mug and slid over, making room for Sully to sit next to him. "Why would you care? Shouldn't you be taking care of yourself instead? You don't smell like vodka."

Sully sat in the offered space and gingerly put a hand on Rafe's back, and when the kid didn't stiffen or protest he began to rub small circles. "I don't need any. No one cares about the bruises on an old man, right?" He smirked a little. "It's not like I have any nice, young ladies to impress around here."

Rafe rolled his eyes and turned his head away, sipping his tea. With everything that had happened, that little cup was heaven. Still, amidst the headache, there was a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away. "For what it's worth, I probably could have hit you harder."

Sully hid a smile. "Oh, yes, I'm sure you could have."

"And I wasn't going to kick you, no matter what Samuel said. You're too old to get kicked in the head. I didn't want to kill you, I just wanted…" He trailed off. He'd feel stupid saying it. To be fair, everything he did in that house made him feel stupid.

Sully ran his hand up and down Rafe's spine. That was probably the closest thing to an apology that he was going to get from the kid. He'd take it. "Don't worry, I got the message. None of this is appreciated. I didn't exactly appreciate being played with either, though," he told him, "But we already talked about that."

He continued to rub Rafe's back for a few moments, letting him drink his tea, then took a deep breath. "We've talked before about how Sam has no tact…"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rafe said quickly, shifting a little to distract himself from what the old man was about to say. He turned his head away from Sully, but now his back was pressed up against Sully's leg.

Sully wondered just how long it would be until he became self-aware of that and pulled away from him. Rafe hadn't tensed up, so he took that as a sign that he could keep rubbing his back, if he wanted to. It wouldn't be inconvenient for the kid. "We should still talk about it. I know he crossed a line with you, and I know why you're upset. But you should know that he didn't even realize that the line was there to start with. He was just treating you like he would have treated Nate. It's the only thing he could think to do."

"I am not his little brother," Rafe said firmly, "I'm not even an ally. Tell him to remember that next time. As a matter of fact, make sure there isn't a next time. He's not allowed to sp… To 'discuss' anything with me from now on." He had a long drink from his cup to stop himself from getting worked up again.

Sully shook his head. "I'll tell him not to catch you off guard like that, but he still has as much right to punish you as I do when you break the rules, whether you like it or not. You'll just have to behave if you don't want it to happen, especially if I'm not in the house or I'm busy for some other reason."

Rafe took a deep breath and held it, stiffening up. Sully took that as his cue to remove his hand from his back, and as soon as he did Rafe moved an inch away and resettled when he was no longer making any contact.

Sully's mouth twitched as he suppressed a smirk. Sulking he could deal with; all he needed was a distraction. He stood up. "There's something else I asked them to bring with the drop-off today, and I think now's as good a time as any to give it to you. I'll be right back."

He saw Rafe perk up, then saw him immediately try to hide it. "If it isn't alcohol then I'm not interested," the kid said casually without turning around.

"It's not," Sully told him, "You'll see. Just sit tight." He opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Rafe turned his head and watched the door for a moment, then tipped his cup to swallow the rest of his tea. He wasn't going to give in to any curiosity. It probably wasn't anything he cared for, and might even be something else they could use to punish him. He wouldn't put it past them.

Sully reappeared suddenly in the doorframe. "Catch." He tossed something, and a green blur arced over to Rafe's bed.

Rafe tipped to one side to free an arm and caught something round and fuzzy. He looked down to see a tennis ball. His eyes rolled immediately. "You know, I was being facetious yesterday; I didn't really want one."

"Yeah, I know," Sully smirked, "But I figured it couldn't hurt to get it. Maybe it'll keep you from going insane in here. Besides, I wanted to prove a point. I told you that we're not here to make you miserable, so if you need something, anything, ask and we'll get it. And if you just want something, there's a good chance you'll get that too, although maybe with a catch. Alright?"

Rafe nodded thoughtfully, turning the ball over in his hands. Then he threw it at the wall, as best as he could from laying on his side. It bounced and rolled under his bed. "The last thing I want to do is give you a chance to blackmail me," he answered. "But I guess I should thank you for the opportunity."

Sully didn't argue. Rafe wouldn't believe him until he actually tested it, and he was sure that he'd be trying soon. He wasn't going to worry about it.

"That's all up to you. Do you want some more tea, or are you good for now?" he asked.

Rafe gave Sully a wry, pointed look. "I'm as good as I'm gonna get, apparently."

"Good," Sully grinned and walked over to take his mug from him. "Don't worry about the dishes from lunch, they'll get taken care of. Just rest for now. I'll come and get you if you're not out before dinner."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe mumbled. He eyed Sully. "Thanks, Victor."

"Anytime, kiddo."

Sully was immediately graced with a scowl. He chuckled and left him alone, closing the door behind him.