Author’s Note: Pairing: Toby/Happy
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: No actual spanking, only a character’s thoughts on spanking.
HE KNOWS I NEED THIS
He knows I need this, damn him. He knows what I need, and when I need it, and how I need it. And I hate him for it. Hate him for that knowing smirk. For the strength (and the skill) of his hands. And I hate him for never using it against me, this need that I have. For never taking advantage, for never letting on to the others. I could go on for hours listing the reasons I hate him, but right now there’s a more pressing matter at hand. “At hand.” Nice one. And I wasn’t even intending the sarcasm this time. I use that a lot; the sarcasm, the grumpy attitude…keeps them at a distance, which is where I want them. Strike first, before somebody else can strike you. And again, with the unintended sarcasm. I am so on a roll today.
I mean, it’s not like I TELL him what I need. Sure, maybe I snarl a little more than usual, chuck a tool across the room, snap at somebody. But that’s not telling! He says it’s the body language…narrowed eyes, shrug of the shoulder, tight mouth. God, that’s the way I live my whole life! Like I need some smart-ass shrink telling me what I need. Worse yet, thinking he can give me what I need.
The first time, I nearly cold-cocked him. He got in my personal space, kept staring into my eyes, and I hated myself for not being able to look away. Then he did…that…and I hated myself even more for letting him. But I’m all I’ve got, and hating myself (any more than usual) won’t cut it, so I hate him instead. And he knows it. I can see the hurt in his eyes, see how much he wants it to be different. Only more than that, he wants me to have what I need. And he knows I can’t get it anywhere else. So he buries the hurt, and the want, and does what he needs to. For me. One more reason to hate him.
And every time, after the pain washes over me, and the tears wash away the deeper pain inside, when he’s holding me and I’m hating him, and a little of him is dying inside because of it…then a little more of me is coming to life. And that’s what I hate him for most…that he’s willing to take on the pain for me. I don’t need that, don’t need him to do that, don’t want anybody to do that—especially him! And maybe someday…maybe someday I can say that and it will be the truth. Because of him. Damn him.