Author's Note: Written for a challenge on Livejournal. I added the picture that inspired the story. Set in Season 2 Episode 15 and could be considered a missing scene.
Summary: The continued bickering and fighting of her sons causes Charlotte to take a new approach to get them to behave.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warnings: Non-consensual spanking of adults. I do not advocate this behaviour in real life, only in fiction.





Parenting 101

“Boys!” Lucifer heard their mother’s distant shout as he wrestled Amenadiel to the ground trying to get in a good kick or punch as they went down. He really did not know when this situation had started to take its toll. One moment he was squabbling with Amenadiel about ... to be honest he didn’t even remember what they had been fighting about. Probably one of these sibling things nobody really understood. Why he reverted to this juvenile behaviour whenever his brother or their mother was around was another mystery he couldn’t explain. He longed to find an explanation for this. He really did. But as it were, he couldn’t, for the life of him, change it.

He should be angry at his mother – for manipulating him, using him, making him a pawn in the war she had with dad – and he was. He was furious. But that anger seemed to take a step back leaving the floor to immaturity and plenty of squabbling whenever the three of them got together in this constellation. Mum had disclosed her plan to use Azrael’s blade to cut through the gates of heaven and go home. Lucifer himself was in favour of that plan, although he had no intention of actually staying in the Silver City. Mum and Dad would just have to fight their battle between themselves. He didn’t want anything to do with it. The only problem was that apparently nobody but Lucifer could ignite the Flaming Sword. And now Mum and Amenadiel were pestering him to ‘control his emotions’. Their mother claimed that the last time the blade flamed, he’d been angry. So far it wasn’t working. His own suggestion to dip it in some whiskey and light a match had been dismissed with a reprimanding look.

And then Amenadiel had punched him squarely in the face! Naturally Lucifer could not just let this go without retaliating. So, when Mum’s back had been turned, he’d smacked his brother across the back of the head with such force that Amenadiel had had trouble staying upright. From then on things had just gone south. Mum’s stern scolding to stop hitting each other had fallen on deaf ears. And rightly so. It was tremendously unfair that she had been glowering at both of them. He hadn’t started this! Amenadiel should be the one in trouble.

This was definitely not proving to be a good start to his day. Although there was nothing against a friendly bout of fisticuffs between brothers, he thought sarcastically.

Amenadiel managed to hit him in the stomach and Lucifer stifled a groan as he jerked his knee up to strike his brother viciously in the thigh. His malicious grin over his superb hit was however short-lived, as his ear was seized in an excruciating grip and he was hauled to his feet abruptly; scrambling to get his feet underneath him and follow the sharp pull on his poor appendage. A searing smack to the seat of his trousers seriously discouraged any further attempt to do his brother bodily harm and he quickly stumbled backwards to put some much needed distance between his fuming mother and himself. His hand sneaked back to rub at the remarkable sting she had managed to put there with just one smack as he watched her pull Amenadiel to his feet and dole out another hefty smack. Wide eyes and an open mouth adorned his brother’s face as he regarded their mother, which spurred Lucifer to close his own mouth in hopes of not looking quite as ridiculous as Amenadiel. Redirecting his gaze to Mum however proved to be a stupid idea. Furious didn’t even begin to describe the expression on her face and Lucifer quickly dropped his eyes to the floor instead, shuffling his feet nervously.

If there was one thing Mum despised, it was fighting among siblings. Why did this thought come crashing back to him now? Why not five minutes ago when this situation was starting to get out of hand? Mum took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down before addressing them again. For which Lucifer was extremely thankful. Not that he’d ever admit it, but his mother could be really scary when angry.

As the ominous silence was starting to become unbearable, Lucifer blurted, “He started it!”

“And I’m ending it!” Mum said in a clipped tone daring both her sons to contradict her. Not wanting to look at his mother’s angry face, Lucifer opted to scowl at Amenadiel instead. And was met with an equally impressive scowl on said brother’s face.

“Come on at it, brother,” he couldn’t help but taunt. “You know I’m stronger than you.”

“Stop it,” Mum quickly interrupted them in a tight voice, nipping Amenadiel’s retort in the bud. “Or I swear I will get a wooden spoon and make you regret that you didn’t.” Lucifer tried to keep the self-satisfied grin off his face, he really did. And he thought that he’d done a remarkably good job of it, since it couldn’t have taken him more than a moment to school his features back into a contrite expression. But apparently Mum spotted it anyway. “Do you think this is funny, son? – Maybe I should fetch it and see if your backside is more adept at listening than your ears seem to be right now.”

“You can certainly try. If you’re lucky, you may still find some of its ashes in the oven. – I burnt it,” Lucifer admitted with glee. He really, really shouldn’t antagonise his mother like that. He knew that. But he couldn’t help but feel jubilant at the certainty that that dreaded object would never – ever – be used to punish him again. Nasty piece of wood it had been. Come to think of it, Amenadiel should probably be thanking him too since his butt was facing the same fate as Lucifer’s.

“I’m sure you have a hairbrush that I could use then,” Mum’s voice interrupted his inner musings and his smile froze. “Or my hand will surely suffice to imprint my displeasure onto a bare backside.” A very visible shudder ran through his body at his Mother’s declaration. And once again he regretted not being able to keep his mouth shut in situations like these. Now Mum’s disapproving frown was solely directed at him.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mum,” he appeased her with an innocent smile, while simultaneously trying to beg Amenadiel for assistance. His brother however seemed to be in no mood to come to his rescue as he studiously avoided his eye.

“I certainly hope so, son,” Mum replied and Lucifer let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thanks for the help, brother,” he hissed at Amenadiel, wishing him to drop dead at his scorching glare, as Mum had finally redirected her attention to rummage through his desk in obvious search of something.

“I didn’t make it worse by mouthing off!” Amenadiel whispered furiously. Lucifer looked at him in disbelief.

“This whole charade is your bloody fault! You punched me!” he pressed out between clenched lips, forgetting again that their mother was still in the room and most likely still pissed off.

“I was only testing a theory!”

“That is the biggest load of bull I’ve ever heard!” He was about to say more, but their mother interrupted their dispute by slamming her hand down on his desk. Whipping his head around to look at her, Lucifer saw that she had put two legal pads and pencils on the desktop.

“Come here,” Mum ordered as she pulled another chair to stand next to the one already there. “Sit down.” Amenadiel approached her quickly, ever the suck-up. Lucifer stayed where he was, eyeing his mother suspiciously. He didn’t want to get back into smacking distance so soon.

“Why?” he asked carefully.

“You’re going to do some writing,” Mum explained crooking her finger at him. Amenadiel had already taken a seat at the desk and was looking at Mum expectantly. Lucifer’s palm itched to slap some of that blind obedience out of him. Mum had surely concocted up a new plan to make them suffer. She did not condone fighting among her children. At all. He knew that. They all knew that.

“I’m going to decline. – Respectfully,” he stated bluntly staying rooted to his spot safely out of her reach.

“I didn’t ask, son,” she replied, her voice taking on a decidedly icy note. “You’re going to copy ‘I will not hit my brother’ a hundred times to give the both of you a chance to cool your tempers. Afterwards, when I’m satisfied with your work, we will finally be able to get on with our original plan.”

“What?” Lucifer asked astonished. This had to be the most insane idea his mother had ever come up with – including her current (very flawed) plan to cut through the gates of heaven and go home. Surely she must be joking. Writing lines? That was a punishment reserved for children – not that any other punishments Mum came up with weren’t. But writing? Maybe she’d lost her mind. “This is ludicrous.” The scratching of pen on paper had him focus his attention on Amenadiel for a moment. Of course his holier-than-thou brother was already complying with Mum’s wishes like a dutiful son. He forced down a smart remark aware that it wouldn’t go down well with Mum, but couldn’t suppress an eye-roll. Seriously, he wasn’t a saint. And anyhow, he had tried.

“I can spank you first,” Mum offered. “And then you can do your lines sitting on a sore backside.” Battling a blush and throwing his mother a dark look instead he approached her slowly and sat down next to Amenadiel scowling at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. Those were some seriously sucky choices.

“How did you get such a ridiculous notion anyhow?” he queried angrily. Mum tapped the pad with one finger silently ordering him to start writing. He glanced at Amenadiel’s work and grew even more annoyed at his brother’s headstart.

“This book on human spawn rearing suggested this as a form of punishment. – Worked wonders on the offspring,” Mum explained as he pointedly ignored the pencil. It wasn’t even a biro or fountain pen, but a normal pencil. His scowl darkened. “Apparently it is frowned upon to spank your children nowadays. – What happened to ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’?”

“You’ve been threatening me with a sp... – that all day!” Lucifer sputtered indignantly looking up at her hovering form. Throwing her a look that transmitted his outrage at her obvious double standards.

“You’re not human and I’ve been doing that since the beginning of time,” Mum said lightly daring him to contradict her as she tapped the pad again. “One hundred times. – Neatly.” Then she retired to supervise their punishment from the comfortable couch. Lucifer glowered at her, but made no move to pick up the pencil. He saw Amenadiel studiously copying the same sentence over and over again in this ridiculously neat handwriting of his. Lucifer scowled some more and crossed his arms sullenly, jostling Amenadiel’s arm in the process. Because Mum had put their chairs so damn close to each other! His brother threw him an annoyed look, angrily scribbling over his blotched sentence.

“What?” Lucifer snapped.

“Pick your battles, Luci,” Amenadiel replied quietly with barely contained anger. And what on earth was that supposed to mean? Really, pick your battles? Lucifer snorted, sinking lower in his chair. And bloody hell! Could Mum have possibly chosen a chair that was more uncomfortable? He didn’t bloody think so!

Why was this situation getting so out of hand? Deep down, he knew that he should just pick up that damn pencil and start writing. Swallow his pride, appease Mum and move on. That would be the sensible course of action. So why was it so hard to do so? He looked at the pencil in disgust. He couldn’t let Mum just waltz into his life like that and order him around, expecting him to indulge her every whim! It was just so incredibly frustrating! Meanwhile Amenadiel’s perpetual scribbling was doing nothing to improve his mood. Lucifer looked up to glance at their mother and saw her mindlessly flicking through a magazine. He wasn’t fooled. He knew that she was watching their every move. Probably cooing about what a good son Amenadiel was and thinking about further means to make Lucifer’s life miserable.

As if reading his thoughts – or maybe in answer to the scorching glare he sent in her direction – Mum chose this moment to interrupt his inner turmoil, “Lucifer, if you haven’t started this task by the time Amenadiel finishes, I will give you some incentive.” She looked up from her magazine throwing him a meaningful glance, raised eyebrow and all. It only served to aggravate him further and he kicked the desk leg lightly in response.

He peeked at Amenadiel’s progress, noting with disdain that his brother was just finishing with line number eighty-nine. Screw him. Of course he would number his lines to make it easier for Mum to check his work. Lucifer wouldn’t do her that favour. No, he wouldn’t accomplish her stupid task at all! He redirected his scowl to his own pad and pencil. Stupid, insipid task! How dare she force him to do this! He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to calm down. He needed his wits about him when he would face Mum and anger was not auxiliary! It was proving futile so far. Ruffling of papers and a gentle bump to the knee interrupted his attempt. He snapped his eyes open angrily.

“What?” he spat at his brother.

Amenadiel regarded him for a second with a mixture of concern, pity and urging in his eyes, before shrugging and saying, “I’m done, Mom.”

Crap! Eyes going wide he watched his mother rise. Crap! Crap! Bloody fucking crap! She reached their side with a few quick strides and surveyed his brother’s work while stroking his neck. Lucifer could only watch her in agitation, suddenly fearing his mother’s wrath. Dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. Somehow he wished that he had started writing the stupid lines, because whatever Mum came up with next, would probably be worse than writing.

Maybe, if he did so very, very slowly and stealthily, he could pick up the pencil and start writing without her noticing. He moved his hand carefully towards his goal while watching Mum like a hawk. He needed just one word.

“All right, well done,” she praised his brother smiling at him lovingly. “Why don’t you get yourself something to drink in the kitchen, while I deal with your brother?” His stomach did a nose dive at those words and he tried desperately to fight the blush that crept up his neck. ‘Deal with him’? That sounded positively terrifying, and not to mention embarrassing. He tried to get Amenadiel’s attention by throwing him a frantic look and willing him to stay. Surely Mum wouldn’t follow through with her threat, if his brother was in the room – watching?

Luck however wasn’t on his side as he watched Amenadiel slip silently into the kitchen and close the door. His mother apparently did not want to waste any more time as she grabbed his left arm and hauled him to his feet.

“I was just about to start,” he made one last attempt at changing her mind. The look on her face told him what she thought of that quite clearly. Not much at all. He watched in trepidation as she sat down on the edge of the desk and started to unfasten his belt and trousers.

“Mu-um,” he whined loudly, because seriously? He hadn’t been bad enough to warrant that. Just a tad stubborn. His attempt to stop her process of undressing him like a toddler was however quelled with a sharp slap to his wrist. So he wisely decided to keep his hands out of her way. His trousers were pushed down and she drew him forward until he was bent over her knee with his upper body firmly pressed to the desk and Mum’s arm wrapped around his waist to keep him snugly pressed to her side. He didn’t resist. He knew that this was a battle he’d lose. Somehow, he mused, he’d known all along. It was just so damn hard sometimes! Speaking of hard, Mum chose this moment to bring her hand down in a mighty wallop on his thinly-clad backside. Lucifer gritted his teeth in response. Bloody hell, she wasn’t fooling around!

“I have given you enough chances to correct your behaviour, son,” she lectured sternly, peppering his butt with several sharp smacks, all precisely where he’d feel it most when he sat down. How on earth did she manage to procure such a sting by just using her hand?

“Yes! I’m sorry! I’ll do it now!” he agreed quickly in hopes of ending this embarrassment sooner. It was already starting to become very uncomfortable. He tried to wriggle his body a bit to redirect his mother’s aim away from his sit-spots. The rest of his backside had been conspicuously neglected so far.

“Yes, you will,” she declared. Another five smacks fell onto each side and Lucifer was starting to seriously regret his earlier disobedience and sullenness and questioning his reasoning behind defying Mum in the first place. What was so horrible about writing a few lines?

Then she stopped and pulled him back up by his upper arm. Immediately Lucifer bent down to straighten his clothes, his ears turning red. His butt stung and he took a moment to inconspicuously rub at it as he tucked his shirttails in.

He grimaced as he was pushed back down onto the uncomfortable chair by a steady hand on his shoulder. Mum tapped the pad again in a silent order to start writing and this time he did. Picking the pencil up with a sigh, he went to work. ‘I will not hit my brother.’ Six words, a hundred times. It was a tedious and insipid task, just as he’d suspected. And it was definitely worsened by having to sit on a sore backside.

But eventually after as many hesitations as he dared to get away with and despite his overall dislike for the task, he finally started jotting down the expected words. He thought about trying to con Mum by doing, let’s say, only ninety-five repetitions. But then again, he had already been smacked once today. He did not fancy a second round. And maybe she’d make him start over, he shuddered at the thought.

Putting his arm onto the desk he tried raising himself inconspicuously off the chair; just a tiny bit to reduce the sting of Mum’s reminder to behave. Feeling immensely sorry for himself, his sore backside and his soon-to-be even sorer hand, he went about his task with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Which was none at all. He just really, really didn’t want to be smacked again.

What felt like a million years later, he finally finished and got back into his mother’s good graces. Scowling at the prize he had paid for being so stubborn.


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