Brothers - Part 2


by Fairandlovingtop <Orangecatholic@yahoo.com>

Brothers - Part 2

My day in court for my speeding ticket did not go well. Dean had to go with me since I was a minor, and the judge (Margaret Washburn) was a real hard ass. We were third on the list to go before her, and she really chewed out the two guys ahead of me, suspending the first guy's license for a whole year. He had only been going 30 miles an hour over the speed limit. I was doomed.

When Dean and I stepped up to the "defense table" the first thing she said was, "84 miles per hour in a 25? You can kiss your license good bye, young man."

I slouched, but Dean said, "Your honor, may I say something?"

"You're the guardian?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am" said Dean.

"I'm listening" she said.

"I just became Christopher's guardian, ma'am" he said. "Our parents were killed a couple of months ago, and I've just moved back to take care of him. I really do need him to be able to drive, and I can assure you that nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I don't like to be punitive, sir" she said, "but I'm not letting this kind of infraction go without some serious consequences."

"Believe me, your honor" I said, "I've been punished enough. PLEASE don't take my license away."

"How so?" she said.

"What?" I asked.

"How have you been 'punished enough?'" she said. My face flushed hot as I realized what I had brought up. I was in a room full of people, mostly 16 and 17 year olds with their parents. I certainly didn't want to go into how Dean had spanked me.

I looked at the floor, trying to think of something to say when Dean announced, "He got his backside paddled, your honor. I PROMISE you this will never, ever happen again."

I jerked my head up angrily as he said that, and I know I blushed from head to toe.

The judge actually chuckled and glancing down at her desk said, "Is that right -- uh, Christopher?"

I just nodded my head yes, embarrassed beyond words.

"I need you to speak out loud for the record" she said.

"Yes, ma'am, that's right" I said, barely above a whisper.

"I can't really hear you up here" she said.

"Yes, ma'am" I said louder.

"Yes, you got spanked for this?" she said, holding up my file.

I rolled my eyes, totally exasperated, and said, "Yes, ma'am" loud enough so that she certainly could hear me.

"Spanked how?" she said.

I couldn't help but slouch and sigh in exasperation. I did NOT want to talk about this in a room full of people my age and their parents. Thank God none of them went to my school.

Dean said, "Our father always -- " but the judge held up her hand and said, "I want to hear it from your little brother."

I wiped angrily at my eyes and said, "Just normal."

"That doesn't tell me anything" said the judge.

I sighed loudly and said, "Pants down over the knee, okay? Is that enough detail?" and I had to wipe at my eyes, and then wipe at them again. I was so humiliated.

"Would that be on the bare backside or not?" she said. My jaw dropped.

Dean put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Yes, ma'am, that's right. I think you get the picture, don't you?"

"Yes" she said. "I get it. You're quite a bit older than him, aren't you?" she asked.

"18 years" said Dean.

"Come up here, young man" she said to me. I walked up to where she sat, and she stood up and extended her hand. "I know that was very embarrassing, and I'm sorry. I needed to be sure about some things. I'm inclined to give you another chance."

"Thank you" I whispered, swallowing hard.

"Go sit down" she said. When I had returned to Dean's side -- looking at the floor so that I didn't have to look at anyone else in the courtroom, she said, "This will be the second time in 19 years that I've done this young man, so I hope you appreciate your circumstances. I am fining you for your ticket and putting you on driving probation. If I see you in here again any time during the next 12 months I will suspend your license for three full years. Is that CLEAR?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I said.

"Fine" she said. "Six hundred dollars, and one-year driving probation."

"Six hundred?!?" I said.

"THANK YOU, your honor" said Dean, putting his hand in the middle of my back and pushing me away from the table.

In the hallway I said, "Six hundred! Thank God we have that, don't we?"

"YOU are going to work that off, my friend" said Dean. "We're not using mom and dad's money for your goofball mistakes."

"Work it off how?" I asked.

"I'll find things for you to do, and we'll assign a dollar value to it until you've done enough things to pay it off."

"Christ, Dean!" I said. "We have plenty of money now, don't we?"

"It's decided" he said, just like our father used to, which basically meant 'shut up.'

As we pulled into our driveway at home we both noticed all the empty trash cans in front of the neighbors' houses, and how our's didn't have one.

"Darn it, Chris" said Dean. "That's twice."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry" I said, kind of sarcastically.

"Well now it's going to stink to high heaven" he said, sounding really mad. Pulling to a stop in the driveway he said, "Go inside and get your pants off and just wait for me in your room."

"WHAT?" I said.

"You heard me" he said.

"No way, Dean" I said. "Dad would never have spanked me for that. You can't."

He grabbed my arm painfully and said, "Look, dad DID spank me for that kind of thing all the time. By the time you hit high school they were 60-something instead of 40 and that's why you've gotten away with so much crap. We talked about that the last time I visited."

"What do you mean?" I said, yanking my arm angrily away from him.

"I mean I complained that you really were kind of a brat compared to how I was raised, and mom and dad both said that they weren't 39 anymore and that it was just too exhausting to keep after you the way they had me."

"Well -- "

"Well nothing" he cut me off. "I'm just a couple years younger than they were when I was your age, and you WILL learn how to be obedient and contrite."

"_f_u_c_k_ you" I said, and flinched as his hand came up. He didn't slap me, only grabbed my shirt, and said, "That's another thing; that mouth of yours. We're going to take care of that today, too. Now march" he said, shoving me at the door.

I opened it and angrily got out, stomping toward the house. As I made my way up to my room I realized that he was right, but I was still resentful. I tore my jeans off and threw them at my bed and stood there defiantly waiting for him to come in. A minute later he walked in and sat down on my bed.

"Go get me dad's hairbrush" he said. I cringed, and all the bluster I felt poured out of me. Dad had used the hairbrush on me once when I was 12, and I had BEGGED him never to use it again and he never had.

I walked almost gingerly to the bathroom, got the brush, and brought it back to Dean.

"Maybe I was a little out of control in the car" I said. "Thank you for going with me today."

His face immediately softened, and that got my hopes up.

"You're welcome for today" he said. "I love you, Christopher. You're going to be really pissed with me today, but at the end of it I want you to remember that you're the most important thing in the world to me now."

"Maybe we don't have to use the hairbrush?" I said.

"Yeah, we're going to use the hairbrush" he said, calmly.

I let the tears out of my eyes then and said, "Look, dad did ONCE, okay, and he promised me never again."

"Well, I haven't made that promise" said Dean. "I know how much this hurts, kid" he said, tapping the brush against his thigh.

"Dean, please" I said as he pulled me down and over his knee, my chest and shoulders resting on my bed. When he yanked my underwear down I said, "_f_u_c_k_ing unbelievable" with as much spite as I could muster.

"That's the other thing we're taking care of today, kid" he said. "You're going to do your corner time with a mouth full of soap."

"Wha -- OW!" I yelped as the hairbrush landed squarely on my backside.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Oh, God! Stop, Dean! Stop!" I said, and he did stop. I just let myself cry openly and said, "Please that's enough, please" and started to shake uncontrollably as he ran the smooth back of the brush up and down my cheeks.

"Two more" he said, and I clenched and unclenched my butt, waiting for the inevitable.

WHACK! "Oh! PLEASE, Dean, no m -- "

WHACK!

"OW!!!"

"All right" he said, yanking my underwear off my ankles. "Let's go take care of that mouth of yours."

"Oh, no" I pleaded as he lead me by my upper arm toward the bathroom, wearing nothing but my socks and a t-shirt. "Dean, please, don't do this." Our mother had washed my mouth out with soap once when I was about 9 years old, and I vividly remembered standing in the corner bawling my head off as soap drool ran down my face (I didn't want to swallow).

He made me stand next to him as he got a new washcloth out of a drawer, wet it and soaped it up. Again I began to plead, "Dean, PLEASE, just give me one more chance, all right? I'll do anything!"

"What you're going to do" he said, calmly, "is open up so that I can wash that filthy mouth of yours, and then you're going to stand in the corner until I release you. You better not swallow any of this either, or it'll make you sick."

"No" I whimpered. At that he set the washcloth down in the sink angrily, put his foot up on the toilet and bent me over his knee standing. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Six hard smacks of his hand landed on my already tender butt, and I was yelping and pleading with him to stop.

"Obedient and contrite, Christopher. You'd better pick up on that quickly."

I stood and watched in horror as he picked up the washcloth again. "Come on" he said, raising the soap soaked cloth. I put my hand on his chest and opened my mouth, tears streaming down my face.

I gagged the moment his hand was in my mouth. He rubbed it across my teach, the roof of my mouth, the inside of my cheeks. It tasted AWFUL.

"Oh, gross" I choked, spitting into the sink. "Gross" I spit some more. He grabbed my arm again and led me to the landing at the top of the stairs, parking my butt in the corner.

"You stand there until I tell you, and don't you dare spit on the floor."

I just stood there and sobbed, soap spit drooling down my face, as he walked away. I kept trying to stop my crying, but I just couldn't do it and it was so humiliating to stand there like that bawling like a little baby.

I don't really know how long he made me stand there, but it seemed like forever. A chill ran down my spine and I did force myself to shut up when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, hi" I heard Dean say.

"Is Chris here?" I heard my friend Danny say. Danny and my other friend Nick always traveled in a pair, so I was sure Nick was there, too. Oh, God! I thought. PLEASE send them away.

"I'm afraid Chris is grounded" I heard Dean say, and I heard my friends groan.

"How long?" I heard Nick say.

"I haven't decided yet" said Dean.

"Can we use the bathroom?" asked Danny. No! I thought.

"Sure, come in" said Dean, and my heart started to race as the front screen opened and closed.

"Down here" said Dean as, I assume, one of them made their way to the stairs.

"Can't we just say hi?" asked Nick.

"No" said Dean. "That's not a good idea right now. He is grounded."

I was silently praying that neither of them would come up the stairs and catch me with my butt on display, my mouth drooling soap, tears streaming down my face. I couldn't bear it!

A small measure of relief swept over me when I heard Dean tell them both good bye. Then I heard him coming up the stairs. I heard him stop behind me.

"Just so you know, it's only been eight minutes."

I rested my head against the corner and let fresh tears out. I just wanted to be free of this torment. "Come on" he said, taking me gently by the arm. I let him lead me back to the bathroom. He pulled my shirt off over my head and said, "Rinse that out" and I immediately bent at the sink, sucking in water, and spitting it out over and over again.

"Try this" he said, handing me a bottle of mouthwash. At first it made the taste in my mouth worse, but then the second time it was better. Dean reached down and pulled my socks off my feet as I held the counter for balance. He patted my side and told me to get in the shower, which I did.

As I was finishing he came back into the bathroom and I said, "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Pulling back the curtain I said, "Something's wrong. Look at this" and pulled up my arm that was away from him, turning my head to look under it."

"What is it?" he said, and as he leaned forward I hooked my arm around his neck and dragged him forward under the water, soaking him from head to toe.

"HEY!" he yelled, but not angrily. I laughed, and as he poked me hard in the side I let go and instead of pulling away he stepped into the shower fully clothed.

He grabbed my head, pulled my face forward and kissed me and said, "Get out" and started to undress under the water as I stepped out of the tub. I had very mixed feelings then and for the rest of the day. I was torn between being mad at him and going to him for comfort.

Not really having any one else in the world to turn to, I had no choice but to reconcile myself to making up with him. Like our mother, Dean is very insightful and when I came into the kitchen for dinner he said, "You look like you're trying to decide whether or not to hold a grudge about today."

I could only look at the floor, because I felt like if I looked at him I'd cry. I missed our parents, I wanted him to hug me, and I was still a bit angry for the way he had punished me and I was feeling everything all at once.

"You know dad used to hug me for as long as I wanted after I got my backside paddled. I'd sure like to do that if you're up to it." Still not looking at him I forced myself out of my chair and stepped over to him. He lifted my arms and put them around his neck, and he did hug and hold me for a long time.

I managed not to make any noise as I cried, only letting the tears run out of my eyes. I knew that Dean hurt as much inside as I did about losing mom and dad, and I knew that he loved me and that I loved him.

I fell asleep with my head on his lap as we watched TV later that night, and that pretty much became a ritual with us. I kind of wanted to sleep with him in our parents' room again, but I felt silly asking and falling asleep on the couch like that was my substitute. I always woke up in my own bed, but I never really remembered getting there.


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