Suddenly the doorbell rang out, startling all of them.
"...It's the food." Blaine muttered, sheepishly.
Mr. Anderson held his ground a second, but then released Blaine's arm and stood back, gesturing to his son to deal with it. Blaine, red-faced, rushed over to the cash and ran off to the door, grabbing the bag and telling the delivery boy to keep the change.
Kurt, in shock, sat and wondered if Mr. Anderson had been serious. Over his knee? Was he planning on...? Did Blaine still get spanked?
The answer came soon enough, because the moment the bag hit the island Mr. Anderson had Blaine by the ear, dragging him over to the nearest chair. Kurt found himself leaping to his feet at this, helpless and oddly fascinated.
"I- Dad, n-no Dad, please..." Blaine sputtered helplessly, "I'm sorry, really I am, but just- can't this wait t-till-"
"No Blaine." Mr. Anderson interrupted sharply, nose to nose with his anxious son. "You knew the rules, and you decided to do what you wanted to do anyway. You do not lie to me. You're getting exactly what you get any time you choose to behave this way."
"I know, I- I know- sir, I just-" Blaine struggled with trying not to sound like he was talking back. "Not... here, please? Not while Kurt..."
"Mr. Anderson-" Kurt lifted his hands up for him to stop and then thought better of it. "I... sir. Really. I-it was all my idea. I was the one who said we should go to the bar. Blaine never would have-"
"Kurt, I appreciate you taking responsibility for your actions." Mr. Anderson sat down, working on unbuttoning his mortified son's jeans. "And you are free to share them with your parents for them to deal with as they see fit."
"Dad, please..." Blaine whined, looking up to the ceiling, desperate and embarrassed as he felt his jeans shoved down to his knees.
"I believe in old-fashioned discipline," Mr. Anderson cooly explained to Kurt. "And I believe it should be administered immediately after an offense," he said, pulling his son roughly over his knees. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable Kurt, and I am sorry if this embarrasses you Blaine," he added, pulling Blaine's gray boxer briefs down in one motion as Kurt gasped, "but maybe both of you could stand a little discomfort." And with that he lifted his hand and began giving Blaine a spanking.
Blaine yelped a little in surprise at the first swat to his bare bottom, but then gritted his teeth, steeling himself not to make too much noise. Maybe if he just closed his eyes and took it, it would be over quicker? Internally, though, he was raging. This wasn't fair, being subjected to this childish punishment in front of his boyfriend. He hated his dad right then. He hated feeling small and overpowered and chastised, and having Kurt see him like this. His dad wasn't holding back though and before long his focus was less on the injustice and humiliation of it all and more on the pain building on his backside. Each sharp slap stung and compounded on the last, leaving a warm and biting sensation across his rear. It was getting harder to just take it.
Kurt watched, mortified- and then felt guilty for watching but couldn't look away. He winced as he saw and heard the spanking increase in speed. Blaine began squirming uncomfortably over his dad's lap at that, moaning quietly in pain. Mr. Anderson tightened his grip around Blaine and began to speak.
"I am SLAP very SLAP disappointed in you SLAP young SLAP man. SLAP."
Tears bubbled into Blaine's eyes as he squinted them shut, that word- disappointed- echoing in his ears.
"Don't you SLAP ever SLAP pull a stunt SLAP like this SLAP again. SLAP SLAP."
Blaine's voice cracked as he spoke. "Oww-ahh! Yes sss-s-sir." His torso arched up sharply as a particularly stinging swat hit just above his right thigh. "OW! I'm s-ssorrry sir! I'm sorry! Dad- I'm sorry!" It wasn't even the worst he had ever gotten, but the combination of embarrassment knowing Kurt was in the room and the knowledge of how he had disappointed his father had become too much to bear. The tears started streaming from his face and his breath stuttered, trying to pull those tears back in.
At this, Mr. Anderson paused. "Next time you lie to me you're going to get a lot more than my hand. You understand me?"
Blaine tried to reply but a sob caught in his throat and he couldn't- so instead he just nodded miserably over his father's lap.
Satisfied, Mr. Anderson smacked his son's pinkening bottom twice more, hard, to which Blaine replied with helpless whimpers. A quiet minute went by, with only Blaine's trying-not-to-sob sniffling filling the air. Kurt watched, fascinated at how Mr. Anderson's large hand went from punishing to comforting, rubbing his son's back while he collected himself. Kurt swallowed and sat back down in his chair, breathing for the first time in awhile. Finally, Mr. Anderson reached down to pull his son's underwear back up over his bottom and then helped him hobble up.
Blaine pulled away a bit, turning his back to both of them while he pulled up his jeans and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He couldn't face them, and Kurt didn't blame him. Out of something like pity, Mr. Anderson quietly said, "Son, why don't you go wash up and then bring me your phone from your coat." Blaine nodded without looking back at him and then quietly disappeared into the hallway.