When Sully returned to the kitchen, the stove was on with a stock pot of water set to boil. Sam had already finished his beers and was back on his feet, mutilating a chicken carcass and separating the good meat out from the rest.

If he was being honest with himself, the act of trying to comfort Rafe and having it backfire on him was making Sam feel like shit, and his new perspective on the younger man was trying to reconcile itself with the previous one. He was going to cook until both of those problems went away.

Sully took in the site, and his focus locked on several vegetables that were out on the counter waiting to be cleaned and chopped. "Sam," he spoke cautiously, "Please tell me that you're not on the goddamned health wagon too."

"Oh, you're back." Sam looked up from the chicken for just a second, then returned to trimming it. "Relax, I'm making soup. I figure if I start from scratch and keep it fresh, a certain brat won't be able to complain about it. He might even like it and stop sulking for five minutes." Part of him still wasn't convinced that Rafe wasn't getting sick, but even if it was just a reaction from the spanking then soup would help him feel better anyway. Soup made everything better. "If you want, I can fry up a sandwich to go with it, because God forbid that you eat a vegetable."

Sully snorted in response. "I wasn't raised to be a rabbit. That sort of life just ain't worth living." Vegetables in soup was something he could manage, at least, as long as Sam didn't make a habit of hiding them in everything.

He put Rafe's mug away in the sink, noting that it was empty. All of the dishes from lunch had already been cleaned and were sitting in the drain drying. Sully looked over the rest of the kitchen and saw that everything had been fastidiously wiped down and straightened up. If Sam had done all that and started soup in the short time he had been talking with Rafe, that meant something was bothering him.

"Look, Sam," he started, "Rafe is going to get over it. You just caught him by surprise; he's not used to that sort of thing."

"Oh, I get that," Sam replied, "Knowing him, I'll either get the silent treatment or 'business client' treatment for the rest of the day. I'm not worried."

Sully smirked a little at the description. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. Want to tell me what is wrong, then, or should I let you scrub the bathroom first?"

"Ha. Funny." Sam began tossing the bones, fats, and organs he had removed from the chicken into the pot of water. "Nothing's wrong, Victor. 'Quit mother-henning'."

Sully rolled his eyes, but dropped the subject. Sam had always been the type to keep things to himself, and he wasn't going to intrude. "How's the nose doing?" he asked instead.

Sam smirked and looked over his shoulder. "That still counts as mother-henning. But it's doing fine. The bruises he gave me on my side are worse- do you know how many times I've accidentally bumped them against things? Too many." He walked to the sink to wash his hands, then opened a drawer and took out a knife. "Here, why don't you make yourself useful? Those potatoes need to be cleaned and diced."

"Well, I'll be go to hell," Sully feigned astonishment as he took it, "You actually trust me to help you cook?"

"You were in the navy. I figure if you learned how to do anything there, it's prepping potatoes." Sam returned to the stove and began throwing herbs into the broth.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny, smartass." Sully grabbed the indicated potatoes and carried them to the sink to begin washing.

Over an hour had passed since the incident, and Rafe finally managed to recompose himself. He was still indignant over everything, but he could at least control his outward expressions, and if he could do that then he could face the other two members of the house. After all, it didn't matter how he actually felt; what mattered was how they thought he felt. If he wanted to be taken seriously then he couldn't be squirming all over the damned place, looking like a rueful, punished child. Hopefully he'd have a little more control over sitting still than yesterday, since he'd had some practice with it. His ass hurt more the second time around, but he would have to deal with it. One way or another, he'd preserve his dignity through the year.

He jumped a little when he heard a knock on the door, jarring him out of his thoughts. "It's me, kid," Sully called through, "Dinner's ready."

Rafe suppressed a groan. "Fine, I'll be right out." If he hesitated now, it would give the impression that he was intimidated by being around them. He wasn't going to hide.

He pushed himself up off his bed and looked down at the sweatpants Sully had tempted him with yesterday. They were more enticing today, compared to the coarseness of the cheap jeans he'd been provided with, but they'd also be an admission of defeat. He kicked the offending pants under his bed to get them out of his mind. Then he took a breath to brace himself and opened the door to the hallway.

Sam was at the stove when Rafe walked into the kitchen, grilling some unholy concoction of butter, bacon grease, and cheese. It smelled disgusting, and Rafe quickly crossed to the other side of the table where he'd be farthest from it. Sully was standing next to Sam, ladling something that looked a bit more appetizing into a bowl.

He chose a seat where he could keep an eye on both of them. When he pulled the chair out from the table and looked down, he immediately froze in indignation.

Sam saw Rafe bristling up from the corner of his eye and cleared his throat to get his attention. He knew exactly what the problem was. "We decided to get cushions for all the chairs in the last drop-off," he explained, as casually as he could, "The chairs are refurbished, so they have some rough spots we haven't gotten around to sanding and re-varnishing yet. Might as well be comfortable while we eat, right?"

Rafe looked sharply at him as he digested the explanation. Then he abruptly nodded, visibly relaxing again, and gently sat down on the chair. "Aren't you used to refurbished? I would have thought you'd be right at home."

"Cute." Sam rolled his eyes and flipped the sandwich onto a plate. "You keep smart-assing about me being poor and I might just take those away- I'm fine without 'em."

"Rafe, you want something to drink?" Sully interrupted before anything escalated. The two of them seemed to be getting along as well as they ever did, which wasn't saying much. If he had to guess, they were both content to pretend the hug never happened, and were compensating by being extra abrasive. "More tea, or something cold?"

"I'll take some more tea," Rafe answered, choosing to ignore Sam's comment. Reacting would just encourage him. "Without sugar this time."

"Sure, kid." Sully placed the bowl he had just filled in front of Rafe, then went to put the teapot on.

Sam stepped around Sully, carrying two more bowls that he set out on the table, then he moved the sandwich next to one of them. "There's salt and pepper by the oven if you want any," he told Rafe, "But this should be fine without 'em."

Rafe looked down, eyeing the soup warily; he remembered seeing some sketchy cans in the pantry, and he didn't want anything to do with them. This didn't look like one of those preserved nightmares, though. "What brand is this?"

"That," Sam smirked and sat down across from him, "Is Drake brand soup. It's made from scratch, so there's nothing extra in it that you need to worry about."

Rafe picked up his spoon and stirred, looking for stray bits of fat or bone or anything else that might be questionable. "All of it's homemade? What kind of stock did you use?"

"I made that too," Sam answered. "What do you want, a list of ingredients?"

Rafe wrapped his mind around that. He did do a good job with the lobster last night. "No," he decided, "If I die, I die. It can't get much worse than living here."

"That's the kind of attitude you need for Victor's cooking, not mine," Sam said, "Just try it."

"I'll try not to get offended," Sully muttered. He had a mug out and was getting a teabag from a cupboard, so he couldn't give Sam a proper Look to make him feel guilty- not that it would actually work.

Rafe eyed Sam with mistrust, and for a moment he considered refusing to eat it. If he had really put as much effort into this soup as he claimed, then not even trying it would be the ultimate 'fuck you' to Sam. But, as appealing as that thought was, the soup smelled good and he was hungry. There was no point in starving himself; he'd need to keep his strength up while living here, and he didn't know if he'd be allowed an alternative if he didn't want what they cooked. He scooped up a small amount and tasted it.

The was surprisingly flavorful, and when he took a bigger sip he could feel warmth spreading down his throat to his stomach and out through his chest. There were plenty of things he could complain about in this house, but the food- aside from the lack of it when he first got there- was not one of them. "It'll do," he commented and continued eating.

"Good, as long as you can choke it down."

The teapot began whistling. Sully poured a cup and carried it, along with the cream carton, over to Rafe. "Here you go, kid." Then he settled down in his chair to finally enjoy his meal.

Rafe looked at the sandwich, with its cheese and grease dripping onto the plate, and resolved not to glance in its direction again lest he get clogged arteries just from the sight of it. He'd rather go through another discussion than have to put something like that in his mouth. It was just more proof that the old man was crazy.

He managed to make it through dinner without noticeably squirming, thanks to the cushions. He had to admit, they were nice to have, but he'd never say it out loud- not that he was saying much to begin with. He was content to eat and ignore whatever the other two were prattling on about. The faster he ate, the sooner he could get away from them.

When his bowl was empty, Rafe stood up to carry it to the sink. He saw the lunch dishes in the drying rack and remembered what Sully said earlier. "Am I supposed to wash the dishes tonight?"

"No," both men answered at the same time, despite never actually talking about it.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them," Sam continued after a pause, "You just relax." Then he eyed Rafe. "You know, there is plenty more for seconds. Eat as much as you want."

Rafe shook his head. He wasn't going to overfill himself. "That was enough. I'm not hungry anymore."

"Are you sure?" Sully frowned. "You haven't been eating much, kid. And that was only soup…"

"Soup can be a meal, Victor," Sam spoke up, "It's got everything you need in it."

"But there's no substance to it," Sully protested.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Trust me, he'll be fine. Not everyone has your appetite."

"Is that the procedure?" Rafe interrupted before they got too far. It wasn't up to them to decide when he was full. "Whenever there's a discussion, I'm not expected to do any chores?"

"If you get spanked bad enough, yeah," Sam answered. "We're not going to make you do anything after that."

Sully sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, expecting another temper explosion from Rafe. They had just talked about tact last night. "Sam…"

"What? We've both spanked him now, Victor, we all know it happens. What good does playing word games do? Or letting him stay in denial?" As far as Sam was concerned, the sooner Rafe came to terms with what was happening, the sooner he'd start cooperating. Calling it a discussion was just going to make it easier for him to ignore rather than learn from it.

Sully took a deep breath. "We'll talk about it later." He glanced at Rafe to determine his reaction. The kid was surprisingly calm, regarding Sam as if he was a lowly intern who had spoken out of line, then he looked back at Sully and cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

"It depends on how serious the talk is," Sully responded, carefully choosing his words. "Something like what you just went through, where you need time to lay down and… consider… all the points that were brought up, no, we won't make you do any chores. If it's only a short talk then there's no reason why you can't do them afterwards."

Rafe raised a brow. "That means not every discussion is going to be as long as the two I've had so far?"

"That's right," Sully confirmed, "It all depends on what you do, kid. The punishment will match the crime. We won't overreact to you doing something petty."

Rafe turned it over in his mind and nodded. That changed some things. He was going to have to re-strategize. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "If you don't need anything from me, then I'm going back to my room. I'd appreciate it if I was left alone for the night."

"Of course." Sully watched as Rafe walked down the hallway, not looking at either of them, and disappeared in his room.

Sam raised a brow once he heard the door close. "Well, that was formal. Either he's going to go plot our demise or he's going to 'review a stimulus package', though I don't know where he'd get the material for that unless you've been hiding something from me."

Sully chuckled. "If I was, do you think I'd share? No, I'd say he's trying to cope. He's going to need time for his ego to recover after today."

"Yeah, sure," Sam scoffed. "I don't think anything can damage that for very long."

"I don't know if I'd bet on that." Sully munched on a bite of his sandwich. "Insisting on the word 'spanked', for instance…"

Sam held a hand up. "I'm not calling him out on having a sore ass, Victor, I'm just saying what happens."

"I know," Sully said, "But you really need to wait for him to warm up to you first; right now he's just going to think you're rubbing it in his face. If you wait for him to stop seeing you as an enemy, then maybe he won't get insulted when you say it."

"Something tells me I'm going to be waiting for a while, then," Sam commented drily, but he could see Sully's point. He still didn't like catering to Rafe's denial, but having Rafe think he was lording it over him wasn't going to help things either. "Alright, I'll keep talking in code for now, if that's what you want."

"It is," Sully confirmed, "Thank you."

Rafe woke up the next morning at the first sounds of stirring from Sam's room. Last night, instead of sleeping on his bed, he had tossed his pillow and a blanket on the floor. Laying on a hard surface would keep him from going into a deep sleep, so that any sounds he heard would wake him up. He had been there for a few days now, and it was about time for him to learn the schedules of the other two occupants and what they did when he was locked in his room. He could handle a little discomfort if it meant keeping himself informed, especially if he learned anything that he could take advantage of.

Besides, this morning he had to be up at the same time Sam was, before he started cooking. In the moments he hadn't been sleeping, he'd come up with a plan to make his stay there a little more bearable.

He heard Sam bumbling around in his room for a little bit, then a door opened and the older Drake shuffled to the bathroom across the hall. The faint scent of smoke wafted into Rafe's room, making him grimace. Smoking? Already? That man was a walking cancer campaign.

He forced himself to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. To his dismay, his ass was still sore from yesterday- worse than the morning after his first discussion- and he wasn't sure if it was because his body hadn't gotten enough rest to heal properly or just because it was assaulted two days in a row. Whatever the cause, it didn't matter. As long as he didn't get spanked again then it should be back to normal by the end of the day. He got to his feet and threw the blanket and pillow back on his bed, then waited for the click of the lock that told him he was free to leave his room again.

Sam flushed and left the bathroom, unlocking Rafe's door as he passed it in the hallway. When he reached the kitchen, he washed his hands and set up the coffee pot. By the time it was done brewing, he'd be finished with his morning cigarette. He had it down to a science by now.

During his morning piss, he decided that today he was going to try his hand at making breakfast burritos. There were plenty of ways to keep those healthy for Rafe, and cheese and bacon could cover up those same healthy aspects for Sully. It was a good thing he had mastered the art of vegetable-hiding when Nathan was still a pre-teen, though he never thought he'd be using it on a man technically old enough to be his father.

He wouldn't have to worry about prepping for a while, since everyone else would be asleep for at least another two hours. Besides, coffee came first. He was going to enjoy that before doing anything else.

All thoughts were interrupted when he heard a cough out of nowhere and nearly had a heart attack. "Jesus, Rafe," Sam glared over at the source, who had seemingly materialized in the kitchen entrance, "I didn't even hear you walk in. What are you doing up?" And why was he being so damned sneaky? It was too early in the morning for the brat to be acting this creepy.

"I could ask you the same question," Rafe retorted, keeping his tone guarded, "You don't get locked in your room at ten, so you have no reason to be waking up at six."

Sam stabbed out his cigarette, recovering from the start. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Oh, you know, it's just one of those habits you get when you've been in jail the past thirteen years or so."

"Yeah? Well, coincidentally, it's also a good habit to have when you've been in the business your whole life." Rafe walked to the fridge. "I want yogurt for breakfast, so if you were planning on making me something, don't."

"That's all?" Sam watched him, "Are you sure? Yogurt's not a lot."

"It's all I want," Rafe answered. He took the yogurt container out and set it on the counter. "Did you even listen to what you told the old man last night, or do you just like being difficult?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yogurt's not soup, but fine, if you say it's enough then it's enough. Don't expect me to make you anything later if you get hungry again."

"I wasn't going to ask you to."

So much for breakfast burritos. There was no point in making them if Rafe wasn't going to have any- the recipe would be wasted on Sully. He would make them another day. Instead, he decided to go with biscuits and gravy; with Victor, anything that had the word 'gravy' involved was a safe bet.

He heard the coffee pot bubbling, so he grabbed a mug and filled it. "There's plenty more if you want some," he commented as he took a sip. Then he set his on the counter and went over to the pantry to unlock it. The peace and quiet he usually enjoyed in the morning was already disrupted, so he might as well start prepping breakfast while he drank.

Rafe took out a bowl and a spoon, then opened the container. He filled the bowl halfway, watching Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Grab me some walnuts while you're in there. And raisins."

"I didn't think anyone younger than sixty actually enjoyed eating those," Sam commented. "You know, we do have some frozen berries that'd probably taste better."

"I remember what we have," Rafe replied bluntly, "And I know what I want."

"Alright, if you're sure." Sam came out with the requested items and set them on the counter, then went back to the pantry for the various ingredients he'd need for biscuits and the roux.

Rafe took his time sprinkling the nuts and raisins over his yogurt, making sure that they were spread out and even. When everything was satisfactory, he put the yogurt away, then carried his bowl and spoon to the table. He grabbed a mug so he could pour himself some coffee to go with it. Finally, he sat down and began eating, going slowly and keeping an eye on Sam.

The kitchen was silent, the only sound coming from Sam making dough. Rafe waited until he was kneading and had his fingers covered with the stuff before speaking up. "You know what this is missing? Honey."

"Well, if you want me to get it for you, you're going to have to wait a minute," Sam said wryly. "My hands are full."

"Or I could just get it for myself," Rafe pushed his chair back and stood, "I remember where it is."

Sam hesitated. The whole point of locking the food in the pantry was so Rafe couldn't sabotage any of it, so he wasn't keen on the idea of letting him in there unsupervised. But, really, what could the brat do in thirty seconds? "Fine, but don't make a mess in there."

Rafe narrowed his eyes and made sure to put as much disdain in his voice as was physically possible. "I wasn't planning on it, but now that you've said something I think I should."

"Cute. Just get it before I change my mind."

Rafe stood straight and walked into the pantry. Instead of grabbing the honey right away, he scanned the top shelf looking for something he had seen while making a list with Sully. Once he found it he quickly palmed it and slipped it into his pocket. The next thing he needed was a Ziploc bag. It only took him a few more seconds to spot those and tuck one into his other pocket. When he was sure that they were hidden enough and Sam wouldn't suspect anything, he finally grabbed the honey jar and carried it out into the kitchen.

He felt Sam's eyes on him as he exited the pantry, and he ignored them completely. After a moment, Sam went back to concentrating on his dough. Rafe set the jar of honey on the table, got a clean spoon, and sat down. He scooped a generous amount of the golden liquid onto his yogurt, then another, even more generous amount, and continued to do so without restraint.

By the time Sam looked at him again, the jar was a third of the way empty and honey was running down his bowl and spreading out onto the table.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, sorry," Rafe smiled innocently at Sam now that he finally had his attention, then he plopped another dollop of honey on top of his bowl. "Looks like I accidentally made a mess."

Sam stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do, then shook his head. "Nope, I'm not dealing with this." He quickly washed dough from his hands, wiped them dry on his pants, then went down the hallway towards Sully's room.

Rafe inhaled sharply. It was now or never. He took the bag out from his pocket and began to fill it with honey from the jar, being careful not to spill any down the sides. He didn't need a lot for his plan, and the small amount shouldn't be a noticeable difference compared to how much he wasted on just getting Sam out of the room.

Rafe heard Sam knock on Sully's door, and a second later he heard it open up as the older Drake barged in. He sealed the bag shut while listening to what was going on.

"Sam, you have three seconds to get out of here before I kick your goddamned ass…" Sully sounded like a bear that had just been forced out of hibernation and was very pissed off about it. Rafe would have to remember to never wake him up early for anything.

"Oh, no you don't, Victor. You don't get to sleep while Rafe's being a brat, "Sam said, almost sweetly, then his voice turned sour, "You need to get up and take care of it."

There was a pause. Rafe tucked the bag between his waistband and his side, and pulled his shirt down over top of it. He was still in pajama pants, which shouldn't put enough pressure on it to burst, and hopefully he'd be sent to his room before any 'discussions' took place so he could remove it. If not, it was on the side, and he'd just have to be careful not to roll over it. The last thing he needed was having to explain a sudden explosion of honey in his pants.

Sully seemed to have found his clock. "It's not even seven in the goddamned morning, how the hell-"

"He's innovative. Now get up, trust me when I say you don't want me to handle this."

There was a heavy sigh. "Alright, alright, give me a goddamn minute to get dressed."

The door closed again, and Rafe sat back patiently as he heard Sam returning. He put a smirk on his face and folded his hands in front of him, keeping them clear of the honey puddle. He had no desire to be sticky for the rest of the morning.

Sam eyed the mess as he walked in. "I hope you're pleased with yourself because that is not going to be easy to clean," he commented as he went back to the biscuits.

Rafe shrugged. "I hope you didn't need any honey for a while. I'm fine without it."

Sam bristled for a second, but didn't reply. His palm was getting very, very itchy.

A few minutes later Sully came down the hallway with a robe on. It took him one glance to assess the situation. He looked at Rafe. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"I like a little honey with my yogurt," Rafe answered casually. "Samuel seems to think I used too much."

"A little bit, yeah. You tell me not to treat you like a child then you go and do this," Sully muttered and grabbed a paper towel, then went to the sink to wet it. "You need to make up your goddamned mind, kid."

"Maybe being treated like a child just makes me act more like a child," Rafe retorted, crossing his arms. "I'm only responding to what I'm given."

"Right, because making a mess and wasting the food we got you because you asked for it is a normal reaction." Sully grabbed the spoon and scooped excess honey from Rafe's yogurt bowl, just so nothing else would drip down the sides, and picked it up to wipe the exterior. He placed it on the other side of the table and wiped down the honey jar next. "Clean up the rest of your mess, and then you're going to eat every goddamn spoonful of honey left in your bowl. You're not leaving the kitchen until you do. And you've just lost the privilege to prepare or add anything to your food, even if you only want a glass of water. Sam or I'll do it for you. You got that?"

Rafe hesitated for a split second, then plastered a fake smile on his face. "Fine. Am I allowed to get up to get a sponge to clean the table, or was that not allowed?" Inside, he was fighting to keep his temper. Having to ask someone to take care of his food was not one of the consequences he was expecting, and it was fucking patronizing. Still, if his plan worked, the benefits would outweigh this set-back, so he was able to keep calm.

"Don't worry, I'll get you one." Sully threw the paper towel away and grabbed a clean sponge that Rafe could use.

Rafe stood up and dragged the trash can over to the table so he could wipe most of the honey straight into it, humming to himself as he did so. He didn't want either of them thinking that cleaning actually bothered him, and the less he seemed to care the more annoyed they'd be. Then he took the sponge and wiped down the top and the sides where the honey had spread. The good thing about honey was that it's water soluble, so he only had to rinse and re-wipe the table a few times before Sully was satisfied with the job.

After that he sat back down with his bowl of what was now a half-honey-half-yogurt blend. He wasn't looking forward to putting that much sugar in his body, but he wasn't going to back down. He forced himself to eat, going slowly to 'savor' the cloyingly sweet breakfast. Sully sat on the other side of the table with his arms crossed- apparently,he wasn't a morning person.

When he finally finished and was able to leave, Rafe excused himself to take a shower. Aside from some minor inconveniences, that went better than he planned. Sam was correct, he was very pleased with himself right now.