Author: Razzie 2414
Warnings: non sexual spankings of two young men
Author's Website: Razzie's LJ
Author's Note: The first story I wrote for this prompt had to be scrapped as I was getting ready to post. Cat2000 and I had written almost the same story, with a few words and phrases differently. Great minds think alike, I guess. This new story has gone through several changes on its own. I hope you like it. Dean is 20, and Sam is 16.
IT'S NOT MY JOB
Dammit, John! How was I supposed to concentrate on looking up rugaroos with that ruckus goin' on upstairs? I can hear it right over my head, the rhythmic sound of a belt whistling through the air, making a whip-crack sound as it made contact with denim-clad butt. He must have a-hold of Dean. Not another sound is heard. Been goin' on for awhile now. Dammit! I feel bad enough having whipped them boys two days ago, and now they're getting it all over again. Ok, the noise has finally stopped. Now I'm hearin' some talk, and then, yep, sure enough. He's startin' in on Sammy. No doubt about that. Sammy yelps, Dean don't. At least not in front of his daddy.
John had left Dean and Sam with me while he went on a hunt, and I've kept an eye on the boys before, but this time was different. This time Dean wanted to go with John, and was flatly told no. This caused the two boys to start getting on each other's nerves- Dean mad as a hornet, and sniping at Sam. Sam wasn't a bundle of joy either, kinda whiny, but he was only defending himself.
They are just boys, active boys, restless boys, and smart as a whip. I musta spent most of the time telling them to 'stop', or 'quit doin' that' or 'boys!'. Finally, I threatened them the next time I had to tell them something, they were gonna be sorry. Each time they had stopped what they were doing, or got away from whatever they were near, but two days ago it all came to a head. I was in the kitchen fixing lunch. I heard Dean tell Sam to get off the couch and shut up. Sam had been sitting there, minding his own business, watching some show or the other. Dean ordinarily wouldn't have cared what Sam was watching, but he was aching for a fight. I heard Dean start laughing in a way I knew would be getting under Sam's skin, and I walked closer to hear what was goin' on. Dean was still laughing and waving a little package in Sam's face. He had Sam's wallet in his other hand.
"Whatta ya gonna use THIS for, Sammy? No girl would ever hang around with you!"
"Gimme that back!" Sam grabbed for it, and missed.
"Do ya even know to use it, Geek-Boy?"
"I know how to use it! Now give!"
"Been practicing in the bathroom? Ha Ha! Now I know what takes you so long in there! Or have you been working on somethin' else?"
Sam's face was getting stormy. "Don't be a jerk, Dean!"
Dean's face had that snarky, mocking smirk on it. "Waste of your time, Bro. By the time you get it out and get it on, you will have shot your load already!" With that, Sam leaped at this brother and began to punch as hard as he could. Dean dropped the condom and the wallet and punched right back. I could tell this was not going to be them just doing their usual roughhousing, but an all-out fight. Dean was gonna get the fight he had been achin' for. I just never in a million years thought he would take his anger at his father out on his brother. They crashed through the living room, breaking one of my chairs. So, I waded in and tried to separate them.
"Boys! Stop it! Dean! Sam! I mean it now! Cut it out!" These boys were big kids and serious in this. Sam, punching madly at his still smirking brother, shot out with a tight fist, missed Dean, and popped me in the eye. I staggered back for a second, but they kept going. Fine, I decided, this means war. I headed back to the kitchen and pulled out my trusty wooden spoon. Both boys were familiar with this item; maybe this will pull them up short, and stop this nonsense. I returned and started smacking parts of whichever boy I could find. I got a good smack in to the back of both boys' heads, and it came to a sudden halt.
"Geez, Bobby! That hurt!" Dean whined, rubbing the back of his head, and then noticing other stinging parts had been gotten as well. Sam just rubbed and looked insulted.
"Well, somethin' else is about to hurt worse! What's wrong with you two? Your daddy won't be too happy to find out you two have been fighting like this!"
"Then don't tell him! Please, Bobby?" Dean would rather die than have his daddy mad at him.
"Please, Bobby? Sam added, lookin' like a hurt puppy. Those two are the closest I'm gonna have to have kids, so yeah, I have a soft spot for 'em. I wouldn't tell John about this, but it wasn't over, either.
"Alright, fellas. But if you hadn't noticed, Sam got a shot in on me, and this coulda ended up with more than just that chair getting broken!" Both Dean and Sam looked at the chair, and both became ashamed of themselves. Both took a glance at me, and saw my eye getting puffy.
"Sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean it. I was trying to hit Dean."
"I know that! But this whole thing didn't need to happen! Dean, this happened because your daddy wouldn't take you this time! He couldn't, ok? This thing is after boys in their late teens, early twenties! You woulda just been live bait!"
"So why didn't he just tell me that?"
"Sometimes it just works that way, son. You didn't have a need to know. Your Dad said no, and that shoulda been enough! Ok, boys. Into the kitchen now." They followed me in, reluctantly, and I gestured toward the table with the spoon. "Ok, Sammy, you first. Drop them jeans and shorts, and bend over the table." Both spoke at once.
"Now wait a minute, Bobby-"
"Uh, but, Bobby...I don't-"
"Now, I said!" Sam's face was already clouding up with tears, but he obeyed me. For all his picking on Sammy, I though Dean was going to fight ME. He was clearly unhappy and protective of Sam, and more so when the first swat hit.
"Quiet, Dean! You're next." I laid into Sammy's rump, leaving spoon-prints all across his butt cheeks.
Sammy bit his lip, but couldn't hold it in for long. I wasn't being gentle, but I didn't plan to spank Sammy for that long a time. After about 10 good swats, he let loose and starting cryin', after 20 I stopped, and let him up. He pulled up his clothing and stood there, not knowing what to do next. He turned to Dean, and Dean opened his arms to receive Sam, who threw himself at his brother. Dean glared at me over Sam's bushy head.
"You shouldn't have done that, Bobby! It's me you are mad at! I'm the one guilty of causing that fight!"
I walked over and ruffled Sammy's hair to let him know I wasn't mad at him anymore.
"You're right, boy, and yours is gonna be worse. It takes two to fight, and you both broke my chair. Sam, let go of your brother and get upstairs for a while." Sam glanced sympathetically at Dean, and did as he was told, leaving Dean there looking defiant.
"I know you're pissed, and now you're pissed at me, but your brother wasn't totally innocent here. He didn't get it as bad as you are gonna, and no, I still won't rat you out to your old man." Reminding him of that promise was all it took to calm Dean down. I didn't have to tell him to drop and bend, he reached to work the button and zipper of his jeans and pulled everything down at once and assumed the position. And I didn't take it easy on him. I drew my arm back and let that spoon crack repeatedly across that boy's ass, leaving what I know must have been a hell of a sting. His ass began to change from white, to pink, to red as I proceeded. Dean twitched, grunted in pain, groaned, clenched, and finally burst into sobs.
"I'm sorry, Bobby! Oh, Oh, owwww! Please stop, ok? Ooh, yeow!"
I don't know how long or how many times I smacked him, but I decided he had enough. "Dean, you are too old to throw a tantrum like that. You couldn't go, and that shoulda been that! You tormented your brother, and when he ignored you, you picked a fight, breaking furniture before I got you two stopped!" I let him up. He turned sheepishly, and pointed to my eye.
"And blacked your eye. Sorry, Bobby"
"Right. Now, get your pants back up and go get your brother. Lunch is almost ready. And yes, you two idgits can eat standing up." He nodded, then shook my hand,( of all things for him to do!) adjusted his clothes, and headed upstairs. That was the end of it until today, when John reappeared. Both boys acted slightly off, but John has too tired to notice. What he did notice was one less chair in the living room. I made light of it- an old thing, just got broken. Over coffee, I happened to turn my blackened eye his way and he was immediately curious. I lied and said I had had a part land on me. John now put two and two together and mentioned he hoped that part 'wasn't a human part, like a fist, eh, Bobby?'
He pulled the truth out of me, and I insisted I had taken care of it already, but he wouldn't hear of it. He called the boys to him and had them confess, making sure they knew I hadn't ratted them out, but it was the glaring black eye that clued him in. Both boys had looked at me suspiciously at first, but then realized they had left clues behind. One black eye on me, bruising to their own faces, and the one missing chair. He sent them upstairs to wait for him, finished his coffee, and started upstairs. That's when I headed for the library to look up the characteristics of rugaroos.
Now, I can hear his boots on the stairs. He went back into the kitchen, poured himself another cup of coffee. I joined him and refilled my own. "John, I'm sorry. Those are your boys. And they are GOOD boys, usually. I feel bad about whippin' them, it's not my job, and I shoulda left it to you."
John's face creased in a slight chuckle. "Don't you go feeling guilty on me, Singer. You did what shoulda been done. They are having to face the consequences of acting like fools when I left them with you. Dean's up there feeling guilty enough for all of us. Got himself in trouble, hit his brother and you got hit, got his brother in trouble, and now is convinced I won't ever take him hunting again. Hell, I should feel guilty myself, and I do. What kinda life do Sammy and Dean have with me being gone half the time, Dean having to take care of his younger brother, and Sam not getting to have a normal life either?"
"You are doin' the best you can, John. The boys know that. We all do."
"Wish I believed it", John sighed. "Now, what's for dinner, and what have you found out on those rugaroos, Old Man?"
Some things never change.
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