Rafe spent another night laying on the floor, barely sleeping. So far, all he learned about nights there was that Sam snored, and that it was nothing compared to the resounding cacophony that came from Sully's room. He had no idea how he lasted two nights oblivious to that going on in the background.

When morning came, he heard Sam wake up and use the bathroom. He glanced at the time: five past six. Prison had trained the older Drake well, apparently. This morning he decided he was going to stay in his room until someone came for him; there was no point in subjecting himself to a few hours alone with Sam unless he had a good reason, and breakfast was not a good enough reason.

Rafe took a deep breath and pushed himself up, then threw his pillow back on his bed and climbed onto it. He could learn the morning routine later, for now he was going to get at least a few hours of good sleep before he had to get up.

He woke up a few hours later to a sharp rap on his door. "Get up, Rafe, breakfast is ready."

Rafe groaned and rolled his back towards the door. "Fuck off, Sam. I'll eat later." He didn't mind the 'waking up' part, he just didn't want to hear Sam's voice first thing in the morning.

"Then the food'll be cold and soggy," Sam called through the door, "Because I'm not making anything else for you later, and you won't be able to make it yourself."

There was a muffled thud as Rafe's pillow hit the door. He knew it didn't do anything, but it felt good to throw it. He then sighed and flopped his arm over his eyes. "Just give me a few minutes," he said calmly. "You don't need to hover outside while I get ready."

"This isn't 'hovering'. This is me making sure you get your ass out of bed." Dammit, Sam sounded amused. Rafe knew he was enjoying bothering him like this. "There's no one you really need to 'get ready' for. You know that, right?"

"You're just trying to catch me in my underwear."

"I've seen 'em, they're not that special."

Before Rafe could respond, Sam was walking back to the kitchen.

He huffed and rolled out of bed. It didn't matter the company, he made a habit of presenting himself neatly. The only reason he had gone into the kitchen in pajamas yesterday morning was because he needed the baggy space to hide things, and jeans wouldn't have worked.

He opened a drawer and mentally prepared himself while getting dressed, rehearsing his plans for the day. He'd be taking a few risks for the next week, but as long as he was smarter than them, he'd be fine. That was a given at this point.

When he was ready, he put on his public face and walked out into the hallway.

"Morning, Sully," he nodded to the older man as he entered the kitchen, then he smiled politely at Sam. "Samuel. Looking unkempt as usual."

"Glad you noticed," Sam said easily, "I was rolling out in the dirt to perfect this look."

"I can tell. Maybe keep an eye out for the dog shit next time; it blends in with your natural look too well, you need to find something that pops." Rafe pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. "I'll take a coffee," he said without pausing, "And yogurt, with honey."

"So, you're going to insult me and then ask me a favor," Sam replied. "Good strategy. I'll get you the coffee, but you'll eat what I made you."

Rafe looked at him disdainfully, then turned his attention to Sully. "Yogurt. With honey."

"Relax, you'll like it," Sam spoke up as he opened the oven and took out a plate that had been keeping warm. He carried it over and set it down on the table. "Broiled egg, roasted chicken and peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, and onions, steamed spinach, flatbread. Nothing fried. I've got some feta cheese, too, but I didn't know if that was acceptable or not."

Rafe looked down at the burrito. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Samuel was trying to get on his good side without changing his personality or anything Rafe didn't like about him- which was the whole package, really. Still, it didn't sound terrible. "Fine, if it's my only choice then it'll do. Put a little cheese on it, but don't overdo it."

"Alright." Sam opened the fridge and took a package of cheese out, then pulled Rafe's plate closer so he could add it.

While he was doing that, Sully stood and got a mug out. "I'll get you your coffee. Black, right?"

Rafe nodded. "Please."

Sully went over to the coffee maker and poured out a mug. "So," he started casually, "What did you make for me to eat, Sam?"

"The exact same thing," Sam answered, "Except yours has bacon and scrambled eggs and cheddar instead."

"Oh, thank god."

After breakfast was over, Rafe had some time to waste. He had finished the book that he picked up a few days ago, but he couldn't find anything else that looked interesting enough. The bookshelf in the living room was stocked almost exclusively with the histories of famous pirates and thieves. For once in his life he was sick of those subjects.

Sully had already settled in his chair with a newspaper, with a pile of papers on the floor next to him that he had yet to read. Rafe turned his attention to the stack. "Is the Wall Street Journal in there?"

"Of course," Sully answered without looking up.

"What about the Financial Times?"

"Didn't see much use in getting that one," Sully looked over the top of his pages. "You want me to add it to the list?"

"Please." Rafe crouched and skimmed through the papers. He found a few that were worth reading and snagged the business sections from each; it wasn't like Sam or Sully would be too interested in those. Then he settled down on the couch and started leafing through the stocks.

"That isn't gonna do you much good out here," Sully commented. "Is that all you're interested in?"

"I want to keep tabs on my company," Rafe answered simply. "Keeping me isolated from them for a year might have a negative impact, but I doubt you considered that." Really, his main company wasn't his concern, as he didn't allow incompetence in his employees, but he had several smaller side businesses that might get antsy without him there to supervise. "Don't worry, Sam'll be your only competition for the sports pages."

"He doesn't usually read them, actually," Sully turned a page, "Probably too many other things going on in his life for him to worry about what a group of men do with some balls. I'm not too fond of the pages myself; I just like to look them over for any potential business opportunities, but when your news is a week late it's impossible to stay ahead of the game."

"Business opportunities," Rafe repeated with a smirk. "Gambling on sporting events is illegal, you know. Also a good way to lose money."

"Depends on whether or not you help run the show," Sully chuckled. "There are plenty of ways to earn money, kid, being a sucker isn't one of them."

Rafe scoffed. "I've known that for a while now. No offense, Sully, but I'm not going to take my financial advice from you, given your track record."

"Alright, I deserved that one."

A few hours later, Sam came out of his room and walked into the kitchen. He had been reading a book with a cigarette or two, and hadn't wanted to bother the more sensitive house member with his smoke. But now it was nearing lunch time, and the sink was still full.

He shook his head, then walked over and stood in the entrance to the living room. "Rafe, it's now or never on those dishes."

Rafe folded down his newspaper and stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about? I already washed them a while ago."

"That full sink in there tells me that you didn't," Sam crossed his arms. "Come on, quit stalling."

"If there's anything in there now, it must have been put there after I did the breakfast dishes." Rafe held up his paper again, "Therefore, not my responsibility."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're telling me that those plates in there that still have egg yolk on them are not from breakfast?"

"Your grasp on the English language is impeccable," Rafe responded flatly.

Sully lowered the corner of his newspaper, watching with amusement. He only raised his brow in response to the exasperated look Sam shot him.

"Okay," Sam took a deep breath and approached the couch. "That's a pretty obvious lie, Rafe, and you already know what happens with those. I'm going to give you one last chance to get out of it. Go clean the dishes."

Rafe dropped his paper again and gave Sam an annoyed look. "I have a better idea. Why don't you go wash them? Then, while you're at it, you can go fuck yourself."

Sam nodded. "Mhm. Have it your way, then." He pulled the newspaper out of Rafe's hands, setting it to the side, and grabbed his bicep to haul him off the couch. He began pulling him towards the bathroom.

"Hey!" Rafe complained indignantly, digging his feet against the floor. "Let go of me, Sam!"

"I gave you plenty of warning."

"That doesn't mean you have to escort me! I can walk just fine on my own!"

Sam stopped and eyed him. "You expect me to believe that you'll just walk into the bathroom without a problem?"

"I'm a goddamned adult," Rafe narrowed his eyes, "When have I ever tried to run away from what you and Sully do to me? It's a stupid punishment- they're all stupid punishments- and I'm not going to waste any time or energy avoiding it."

"Alright, fine," Sam released his grip. "Be an adult and go stand by the sink."

Rafe leveled a glare at Sam, then straightened his shirt and walked into the bathroom without a word. He stopped by the sink and crossed his arms impatiently.

Sam followed him in and opened the cabinet, getting the same bottle of soap Sully had used before. "Open your mouth."

Rafe looked at him with contempt. "That's degrading."

"I thought you said you weren't going to make this difficult. It's just a stupid punishment, remember?"

"I also said I didn't want to waste any effort," Rafe retorted. "I'm not going to open my mouth like a whore just because you told me to."

"That's good, because I wasn't going to pay you," Sam replied steadily. "You'll feel worse if I have to pry your mouth open for you, because that's the only other way I can do this."

Rafe scowled, then held his hand out. "Just give me the fucking soap."

Sam shook his head. "That's not how it works. Final warning, open up."

"Fuck you."

"Fine." Sam reached out and grabbed his chin, then squeezed against the sides where his molars would be. It was a trick he learned a while ago from a few nuns who knew their business.

Rafe tried to twist his head and push against Sam, but the older Drake kept his grip, and after a few seconds Rafe couldn't take the pressure.

"Alright, knock it o-"

Sam immediately jammed his thumb between Rafe's teeth to keep them from closing again, then raised the pump and dropped a portion of soap in his mouth. He let go before Rafe had a chance to register what happened. He wasn't looking to get his thumb crunched on today.

Rafe gagged and glared at Sam with accusing force, but Sam just pointed to the sink. "Feel free to try to intimidate me, but if I were you I'd be rinsing that taste out of my mouth."

He was prepared to block a punch or kick, but the younger man didn't retaliate. He didn't do anything that Sully had told him to expect. It was strange.

Rafe turned and hunched over the sink and spit out the soap, then twisted the faucet handle. He looked at Sam cautiously, but he didn't seem to protest, so he bent over and cupped some water to his mouth. Sam's rules were apparently not the same as Sully's.

He swished and spit again, then growled at Sam without even a glance. "Get out. Leave me alone."

"I don't think so," Sam crossed his arms, "You still have dishes to wash, you don't need to spend five minutes in here avoiding them. Or are you going to lie again about washing them earlier?"

Rafe scowled. "I don't need five minutes, I need one- alone."

Sam reached over Rafe to open the cabinet and put the soap away. "You can sulk later, after your chores."

Rafe grit his teeth and fought the urge to kick him. Instead, he grabbed a towel to wipe his mouth, then he took a deep breath, calming himself. He forced himself to put a neutral expression on, smiled politely at Sam, and walked out into the hallway. Even if he didn't get a moment to collect himself, he could still pretend that the whole thing never happened.

A day later, after lunch was over, Rafe decided that it was time to test his wardens again. Sully had settled in the living room and Sam had left the house for a walk, so the timing was perfect. He opened the kitchen cupboard and got out a glass, then went to the sink to fill it with water.

"Doing dishes already?" Sully called out, sounding surprised.

"Just starting to soak them," Rafe answered calmly, letting the water run for a little while before turning it back off again. He carried his glass into the living room and set it down so he could grab a newspaper.

Sully raised a brow when he saw it. "I'm pretty sure I included 'getting a drink of water' on that list of things you're not supposed to do right now, kid."

"Sam poured it for me before he left," Rafe replied.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

"I must be getting old, because I thought you were hiding in your room until you heard him leave."

"There's no 'getting'," Rafe said lightly, smirking. "You are old, Victor. I've been telling you to get your head checked since the first day I got here." He sat down and took a sip, looking at Sully as he did so.

Sully knew a challenge when he saw one. "Haven't you eaten enough soap over the past few days?"

"I think any amount of soap counts as 'enough'," Rafe scoffed. "Are you trying to say that you think I'm lying to you?"

"That was the implication, yes," Sully answered.

"Why would I do that? Why would I give myself more work to do when I've got you and Sam waiting on me hand and foot, then lie about it after?"

"One, because you don't like being patronized," Sully answered, "And two, because you can. But if you come clean right now, I'll make it easier on you."

Rafe rolled his eyes and took another sip of water. "You telling me that is patronizing. There's nothing to 'come clean' about."

"Sure," Sully nodded. "Maybe we should just wait for Sam to get back and we can ask him to clear things up."

Rafe shot Sully a look. Clearly, he didn't like that idea. "You know, I wouldn't be surprised if he was smoking pot out there, or something worse. I don't think we can rely on his memory."

"He knows better than to do that without sharing," Sully retorted. "Now either we go to the bathroom for a talk now, or we can wait and do it when he's here. I'll let you decide."

Rafe took another long sip from his cup, then sighed heavily, as if this whole thing was one big inconvenience. "Fine," he said as he stood. "If you won't believe me anyway, then I might as well get my suffering over with."

"Good choice," Sully said with a hint of amusement, standing up to follow him.

When they got to the bathroom Rafe stopped in front of the sink. "Want me to get the soap out for you?"

"That's unusually helpful," Sully eyed him. "No thanks, I got it." He turned on the water to wash his hands.

"I'm not being helpful," Rafe argued, "I wanted to make sure you're using the same soap as last time and not the one that's had people's hands all over it."

"You want me to write your name on it?" Sully asked. "Don't worry. If it's in the cabinet then we know not to use it." He reached over and took the bottle out. "Besides, doesn't soap kill germs?"

Rafe scowled slightly, but quickly recovered. "Not all soap does, most just gets rid of grease and dirt. But it's not just germs I'm worried about. We're in the bathroom."

"Right." Sully got the cloth from before out and ran it under the tap, then pumped some soap on it. "Open up."

To his surprise, Rafe obeyed without complaint, opening his mouth just wide enough that Sully could get the cloth in. He spread the soap on his tongue, and when he was sure he covered enough area he threw the cloth in the sink.

Rafe didn't even flinch. He calmly closed his mouth and kept his eyes fixed on Victor.

Sully hesitated for a split second. This was very different from the first time, and Rafe might have already gotten over the punishment. Then, after thinking it through, he relaxed. Well, he already knew that the kid was a good actor, and good at suppressing reflexes, doubly so when it was his pride at stake. It was an impressive show, but that's all it was.

He took a paper cup from the medicine cabinet and filled it part way with water, then set it on the rim of the sink. After a making Rafe keep the soap in his mouth for a minute, he gestured towards it. "Go ahead."

Rafe casually turned the water on, then spat into the stream to wash it down the drain. He took a mouthful of water from the cup, swished, and spat again, then turned the tap back off. He grabbed a towel to wipe his mouth. "Are we done now?"

Sully nodded. "Yeah, we're done. You should probably wait a little bit to drink anything else, though."

"That's fine. I'm not thirsty anymore."

"Victor, I'm telling you, it's not working." Sam took a sip from his beer, keeping his voice low. "It was a nice thought, but he's too stubborn. Taste doesn't build like pain does."

"I saw his reaction the first time," Sully replied, taking a drag from his cigar. "It works, he's just good at hiding it."

Rafe had been locked in his room for the night an hour ago, but they still kept their voices low just in case he was listening. Things had certainly been different the past few days.

"No, that's not right," Sam looked at him, "I never got that reaction from him. Ever. He fought me once because he didn't want to open his mouth for me, but he didn't have a problem with the soap itself. He gives me more trouble than he gives you with everything, so why the sudden change?"

"Because it's convincing," Sully sighed, "You know how he is, Sam. Once he gets his temper out of the way, it's a battle of wills, just like when he gets spanked. He wants us to think it's not working so we'll stop doing it, then he'll win. That's why we shouldn't stop."

"Or, hear me out, he overreacted the first time to make you think he hated it so we would use that as a punishment instead of spanking him," Sam argued. "Now he's acting up just bad enough to get his mouth washed, but nothing worse. He's taunting us."

"If that were the case, he'd keep overreacting," Sully rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Sam, please, just trust me on this one."

Sam took a deep breath. This week had been a very trying one. It seemed like Rafe was lying every chance he could, and even creating situations just for the opportunity. He'd had to wash his mouth out three times in just one day. Then, when it was over, Rafe would smile politely and go about his business. On the one hand, it was nice to not be insulted or glared at every second of the day, but on the other hand, this definitely felt more sinister.

"We'll give it another week," Sam relented, then drained the rest of his beer. "If he hasn't changed by then, we need to get a new tactic."

The next morning, Sam was just finishing off his cup of coffee when Rafe walked into the kitchen. Sully was still in bed. Well, at least he'd had a little peace this time, but he knew Rafe's appearance marked the end of that. So far, every time the brat was out early he managed to cause some kind of incident.

"Morning, Samuel," Rafe greeted him with a fake smile and plopped down in a chair. He leaned back casually. "You didn't make anything yet, did you?"

"No," Sam answered, eyeing him warily. "Usually it's a few hours before anyone else is up to eat. You want something specific today?"

Rafe tilted his head to the side, pretending to think. Obviously, he already knew what he wanted. "I presume there's a blender hiding in this dump somewhere."

"Somewhere," Sam answered, nodding.

"Good. Make me a smoothie," Rafe flashed that smile again. "Any of the fruit we have here will do, with a little bit of yogurt and some flax."

"I can do that," Sam agreed, "But you need to wait until Victor wakes up; it makes too much noise." He stood and grabbed a mug to pour some coffee into, then set it next to Rafe. "For now, drink that. If you want, I can make you some eggs in the meantime."

Rafe looked at him with annoyance. If he was waiting for Sully, he'd be sitting there a long time. He glanced down at the offered mug and nudged it off the table in response. "Oops."

This. This is what he knew was going to happen. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Seriously? This crap again? Do you want me to spank you?"

"Hey," Rafe looked at him and held his hands up defensively, "It was an accident. You can't punish me for that."

"An accident," Sam crossed his arms, "Right. Because I didn't see you deliberately push the mug off the table right in front of me."

"You're projecting," Rafe shrugged. "No matter what I do, you'll see it the bad way. Maybe you shouldn't be putting drinks so close to the edge, then things like this wouldn't happen."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's too early for this. Fine. Get up. Get to the bathroom. You know the drill."

"So now you think I'm lying," Rafe crossed his arms. "Do you really think I'd do that, Samuel? You think I'd lie to you first thing in the morning?"

"Yes," Sam answered shortly, "I'm not in the mood for games, Rafe. Get."

"I'm not in the mood for your games either, but if you insist." Rafe pushed his chair back and stood, then meandered to the bathroom with Sam impatiently following him.

Rafe stopped in front of the sink and crossed his arms. "Just hurry it up. I'll get a headache if I don't get my coffee."

Sam opened the cabinet without responding and took out the bottle of soap. Rafe opened his mouth before he had to be prompted, and Sam pumped some of the soap onto his tongue.

Rafe closed his mouth again, his expression unchanging, then gestured towards the sink.

"Yeah, go ahead and rinse," Sam muttered. No matter what Victor said, he knew this wasn't working, and that Rafe was taunting him right now. It was frustrating, but he also knew Rafe would stop gloating in a minute.

Rafe splashed water into his mouth and spat, then wiped it on a towel. He smirked at Sam and began walking past him. "Well, that was fun. Let's never do it again."

Sam reached out and wrapped an arm around Rafe's waist, pulling him against his side. "No, we're not done just yet."

Rafe's demeanor changed instantly. His muscles became tense and he grit his teeth. "Samuel," he growled. "What are you doing? Let go of me."

"You got your mouth washed because you lied," Sam said calmly, putting the soap down on the sink so he could free his other hand. "We still haven't talked about you breaking that mug on purpose."

"What?" Rafe planted his hands against Sam's back and pressed, trying to force his way out of the grip, but he froze when he felt a sharp smack against his bottom.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed. "We already had a talk! And what about not waking Sullivan up?"

"You'd better keep quiet then, if you don't want him to hear," Sam said evenly, bringing his hand down again. "You can't just break things and lie right away so that you only get your mouth washed. Those are two completely different offenses."

Rafe bristled angrily. This was not how his plan was supposed to go! Of course fucking Sam would ruin everything. Still, he'd been through this punishment before, and he could do it again. Besides, Sam hadn't sent him to his room first. That had to be a good sign. He couldn't be expected to go through the whole thing while standing and pinned to Sam's side, right?

Sam felt him tense up, but no further struggling came out of it. Good, he had come to terms that this was happening. He tightened his hold and brought his hand down eighteen more times, targeting his upper thighs. He figured that between the lingering taste of soap and how much Rafe loved being held close to him, that was all he needed to get his point across.

Rafe hadn't made a sound, but he was still stiff, and shaking a little bit. Sam knew he was livid, and he'd have to be careful when he let him go. "Take whatever time you need to calm down," he said lowly, "But before you get anything to eat, you're cleaning up that mess." Then he released him and braced himself.

Rafe stayed still for a moment, refusing to look at the older Drake. Then he slowly began walking out of the room. As he neared the doorway, he suddenly lashed out, slamming his fist against the wall as hard as he could and breaking through the drywall. He let out a deep breath, allowing the pain to soak in and help him focus, then continued to his room without looking back. He slammed his door behind him.

Sam stared at the hole in the wall that Rafe left behind. There were a few red streaks smeared against the fragments. Shit. Rafe's temper tantrums were proving to be formidable. There was no avoiding it now, he had to go wake Victor to make sure the brat didn't break his hand. He picked up the bottle of soap to put it away, then paused and looked at it more closely.

Rafe was still fuming when he heard the knock on his door. That would be Sully, right on cue. At least, it better be him. "You can come in, but leave that sonuvabitch out there."

Sully pushed the door open cautiously, then walked over to him. He looked like he had just woken up, and wasn't too happy about it. "Let me see your hand."

Rafe scrunched his nose. "Why? Going for a literal slap on the wrist now?"

Sully rolled his eyes and didn't answer. He reached out and grabbed Rafe's arm, lifting his hand up. That was when Rafe noticed he was bleeding.

He snatched his hand away and held it behind his back. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"Like hell you are." Sully gave him a stern look and took his arm again. "That needs to be cleaned and looked at. Come on. Sam's in the kitchen, so you won't see him."

Rafe hesitated, then inclined his head and allowed Sully to lead him back to the bathroom.

When they got there, Sully turned the cold tap on and put Rafe's hand under it, rubbing away stray bits of drywall. "Your knuckles are swelling, but nothing feels broken. You got lucky."

Rafe remained quiet. He was too annoyed at Sam to protest, or to insist that he could do all of this himself.

Sully glanced at him. The kid was still tense, and brooding. "You want to talk about what pissed you off so much?"

Rafe only looked at him in response.

"Alright," Sully consented. It had been worth a shot. "Then maybe we should get a punching bag for your room and give you something else to take your anger out on. You did a good job redirecting it to the wall, though, instead of hitting Sam."

Rafe rolled his eyes, but relaxed a little. "I'm not a dog, Sully. I don't need praise."

"I know." Sully left Rafe's hand under the water and opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit out. "That doesn't mean I can't tell you when you've done something right."

Rafe scoffed and eyed the fresh hole in the wall. "So, that's not considered disrespecting the property?"

"In this case, no," Sully shook his head and turned off the water. "It was the wall or Sam. Don't be getting any bright ideas, though."

Eventually, he hoped, Rafe would be able to control his temper better and maybe then it would be considered disrespectful, but the kid wasn't anywhere near there yet. He got a towel to dry Rafe's hand off, and once he was satisfied he grabbed a tube of antibiotic cream and began to dab it over the broken skin.

"I wasn't."

"Sure you weren't. I can see the gears turning." Sully put some gauze on Rafe's knuckles and wrapped them up. "Are you still upset?"

"No, Victor, I'm ready to go out there and hug and sing Kumbaya." Rafe put as much sarcasm in his voice as he could, just in case the old man didn't get the point.

Sully ignored it. "Will you be able to control yourself, at least? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

"I'll behave if he behaves," Rafe answered. He was visibly calmer, and Sully believed him.

"Good." Sully put the kit away. "Then go clean up your mess, and we'll all have breakfast."