Spank, Spackle and Paint
by Nelson
Vic watched the swirling of the thick paint as he stirred it, working to blend any of the pigment that had settled to the bottom of the can. Across the room, Benji draped a drop cloth on the kitchen floor, safely covering the white tiles accented with green diamonds from any potential splatter from Behr's Rockwood Jade they had selected.
"This green is much better than that yellow," Ben said. "I'm sick of looking at it."
"It was time for a change," Vic agreed. "What?" Vic asked when he heard a chuckle from across the room.
"Remember the last time we painted this room?"
Vic stopped stirring and glanced up at Ben from his crouched position in the floor. "We?"
Ben straightened the cloth, then his back, placing his hands on his hips as he faced Vic. "Okay, the last time *I* painted this room, then."
Vic laughed and carefully scraped the paint off the stir stick by dragging it against the edge of the can. "Yes, I remember. Clearly. Seems like yesterday rather than two years ago."
"You were in a nasty mood that day," Ben reflected while gathering the brushes.
Vic's eyes widened in surprise. "Ha! Me?!"
"Yeah, you. That whole thing was your fault. I was just reacting to you," Ben said nonchalantly as he twisted a furry tube into place on the roller barrel.
"Turn around and say that to me while looking me in the eye."
Ben obliged, turning to face Vic, and Vic added as Ben opened his mouth, "*With* a straight face."
Ben tightened his lips but the smile still emerged. He shrugged and said, "You *were* in a bad mood."
"*You* were in a bad mood," Vic corrected, reminiscing. "Pouting - or stewing - from the moment I came home…"
~~~~~~~~~~
"You've been awfully quiet. Is something wrong with your dinner?" Vic asked.
"Nothing's wrong with dinner. I just don't have much to say tonight and I'm not really hungry." Ben sullenly shifted his peas into the mound of mashed potatoes on his plate, burying a few in the fluffy pile.
Vic studied Ben, trying to see behind the mask Ben was using to hide whatever was bothering him. "If something's wrong, Ben, you need to…"
"Nothing's wrong!" Ben snapped. "Just leave me alone."
Vic's fork immediately stopped moving and he glared at Ben. "Hey," Vic said firmly. "There's no reason for you to snap at me." Bad day or not, Ben wasn't going to take it out on him. Ben seemed to blanch at the tone yet offered no explanation.
"I didn't mean to snap," came the pseudo-apology.
Clearly something had him on edge. Vic decided to leave him alone about it for the moment. Ben wasn't the most forthcoming man he had ever been with, but changing that would come with time and strengthened trust. Vic knew that and appreciated it, so he tried to keep the topics light and on generalities, hoping Ben would come around in his own time, sooner rather than later.
Ben's plate was still mostly full when Vic finished eating. "You need to eat a little more. You barely touched your dinner."
"I'm not hungry." Ben shoved his plate away from him toward the center of the table.
"Did you eat a snack before dinner?"
"No."
"Anything since lunch?" Vic prompted.
Ben shifted in his chair and shrugged. "I'll take that as a no," Vic pronounced. "Eat a little more, please."
"I don't want anything, I said," Ben said as the color began to rise in his face. "Don't you think I know when I'm hungry?"
"Benjamin. I'm not going to argue about it. I didn't say you had to finish it but I want to see half of it gone."
Dark eyes locked on Ben causing him to snap his mouth closed, making the right decision not to argue further. Vic felt a wash of relief as Ben pulled his plate back to him and started eating again.
A struggle avoided.
"Is that enough to make you happy?" Ben asked, having left exactly half of each serving on his plate.
Vic's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "Benjamin, one more smart crack and you're going to find yourself in trouble."
Ben sighed and crossed his arms. "Well, is it?"
"Did you hear what I just said?"
"Yes, sir," he muttered, then with more contrition, he added, "Do I have to eat more?"
Vic gave Ben a long look - long enough that Ben's stubborn gaze finally fell. "No. Help me with the dishes."
"Why do we have to do them tonight? Can't we just leave them until in the morning for once?" Ben asked.
"No, we cannot leave them until morning," Vic said, wearily rising from his chair to take his plate to the sink. "Come on. Let's get them done."
Vic turned from the sink after rinsing his plate only to find Ben still sitting at the table. Vic's jaw tightened and flexed. "Young man, if you're looking for trouble tonight, just say the word so we can get on with it."
"I'm not," Ben said.
"Then why are you still sitting at the table?" Vic's question went unanswered as Ben used the tines of his fork to push the peas around some more.
"One."
Ben's head snapped up at the commencement of the three-count. "Fine!" he said. He snatched his plate off the table and stormed to the sink.
The display of temper was the last straw for Vic. He caught Ben's wrist as he neared the sink, removed the plate from his hands in fear for its safety.
"Ow. Let go of me," Ben said.
"I'll let go of you in just a second," Vic said, marching Ben to the corner of the kitchen. Turning him to face the conjoined walls, Vic said, "You stand here until you can get yourself under control, then we're going to talk about what has you in such a bad mood."
"Me?! *You're* the one in a bad mood!"
"Benjamin! Quiet and face the corner."
Ben's jaw went slack and he pulled his wrist free of Vic's grasp to cross his arms. "I will not stand in the corner like a stupid kid."
Vic moved his hands to his hips slowly and said at an equal pace, "You will stand here and you will be quiet. You're going to do it before this evening gets any worse."
With a sigh that was as much a huff, Ben turned an angry face to the corner. Fearing a storm on the horizon, Vic sat in the chair that Ben had heaved out of his way as he stomped to the sink earlier. Vic took time to get his own temper in check as he thought through the evening, wondering how it had gotten so ugly so fast and if there would be more to come.
"Hands down," he ordered.
"What's wrong with my arms being folded?!" Ben barked, spinning to face Vic.
Vic didn't bother to explain that he saw defiance in the body language. Or the fact that "because I said so" should be enough. Instead, he said with an edge, "Turn around, and keep your arms at your sides."
Ben stood, staring at Vic as the moments stretched into seconds. Vic ended the standoff with a snap of his fingers. "Now!" He pointed behind Ben, who whirled back around and slapped his hands down to his sides.
Vic shook his head and started scraping the contents of the serving bowls into storage containers. He wasn't sure about this corner thing. Nelson had recommended it, said it was an excellent way to get potentially bad situations under control. So far, it seemed to be more of a fight than a help.
He popped the plastic lid on a filled container and glanced toward the corner. Ben was restless, shifting from foot to foot and heaving dramatic sighs every minute or two to make sure Vic knew he might be standing there but he sure as hell wasn't happy about it.
But he wasn't arguing.
Maybe the corner was a good idea after all, Vic thought to himself. Maybe it actually worked.
"How much longer?" Ben griped.
Or maybe not. It had only been five minutes, Vic saw with a check on the time. "Until I tell you the time is up."
"I hope you don't plan on making this a habit. It's stupid!"
"There are other alternatives, Benjamin," Vic warned. "Now, be quiet," Vic said after giving Ben a second to absorb what he said earlier. "Try to use the time to calm down and figure out why you're being so cranky tonight. I'll expect an answer…"
"I'm not the one who's cranky!" Ben said.
"Benjamin! Every time you open your mouth, I'm going to make it longer," Vic said. Ben quieted at that and Vic returned to the dishes, shaking his head.
He left Ben in the corner while he finished with the kitchen then turned to Ben as he dried his hands, pleased that the corner had served its purpose. Ben had been calm, not argumentative for the last 15 minutes, and Vic had used the time to simmer down.
Ben turned around from the wall just as Vic was reminding himself to thank Nelson for the advice, but then Vic noticed his left hand was balled into a fist.
"What's in your hand?"
Ben slipped his left hand behind his back while spreading the fingers on his right, offering an empty palm to Vic.
"The *left* hand," Vic growled.
"Nothing."
"Let me see. Right now." Vic walked across the kitchen, reached around Ben's back and took his fist in his hand. "Open."
Ben slowly peeled his curled fingers open and Vic saw long twisted strips of something light yellow in Ben's palm. He stared at the strips, confused. They aren't paper he thought. They looked almost like…
He settled a heated glare on his partner and knew instinctively his assumption was correct when Ben couldn't maintain eye contact. He pulled Ben aside by the arm and there on the corner wall of the kitchen were lengths of missing paint, mysteriously the same size as the strips of color in Ben's palm.
"Benjamin David!" Vic bellowed. "What were you thinking?" An accusatory finger zeroed in on the grayish shapes on the wall where the paint had been.
"That I didn't want to stand there! I was bored!"
"I'll fix that," Vic said ominously, through gritted teeth. He marched Ben across the kitchen back to the table where the whole ugly mess had begun.
"Wait!" Ben exclaimed. All evidence of cocky rebellion was stripped away like so much cheap paint. "What are you going to do?!"
Vic flipped a kitchen chair around and sat down in one fluid motion, his fingers immediately working to loosen Ben's belt buckle. In seconds he had Ben facing the floor with his pants down. A few more seconds had Ben pleading for Vic to stop, swearing to never peel paint off the walls again, and vowing that he would gladly - GLADLY - stand in the corner if that would make Vic happy.
Honest.
But none of it made Vic happy. He ignored every promise, every tear, and even the sting in his palm to be sure Ben got the message. He certainly hadn't planned to spend his evening dealing with Ben's temper, and even though he thought he had avoided it by using the corner, the inevitable happened despite his efforts, and he meant to make a point. When Ben was spent from struggling, Vic stopped the spanking and lifted him from his lap.
Ben immediately plastered himself to Vic's neck, settling carefully on Vic's thighs. Vic held him and waited while anguished cries dwindled to quiet sniffles and the involuntary jerks of breath that always followed.
"Ready to talk about it?" Vic asked, his fingers feeding through Ben's hair, hot with the physical and emotional exertion that never fails to accompany a spanking.
"I got a D on that Algebra test," Ben whispered around the hiccups.
Vic tried to peel Ben away, but the hold he had on Vic's neck tensed and proved tighter than the grip the paint had on the kitchen wall.
"Let me see you," Vic said persuasively. The hold reluctantly loosened, then released. Vic brushed his fingertips gently over Ben's dampened cheeks, then cupped the side of his face in one large palm.
"There," Vic said. "Now what's this about a D?"
"That Algebra test. You know the one."
"Yes, I do. The one you've been studying so hard for." Ben nodded and his face crumpled as new tears threatened. "What happened?"
"I went blank. I don't know what happened."
"Benji, I know math is not your favorite subject. And I know that grade was not from a lack of effort. You did the best you could and you're strong in your other classes."
"But I worked so hard!" Ben said.
"I know you did." Vic hugged him and Ben pressed hard against his neck. Vic whispered, "Want me to tell you a secret?"
Ben emerged from the crook of Vic's neck and he turned reddened eyes to Vic, looking at him curiously. Vic said, "I hate math, too."
"You do?" Ben said.
"Yes. I struggled and struggled with Algebra but I kept at it. One day it just clicked. Like someone turning on a light switch. I actually got to the point I could stomach it."
"Really?"
"Yep," Vic said.
Ben considered it. "But what if it never clicks for me?"
"Then it never clicks. And, unless you plan to major in math…"
"God, no!" Ben exclaimed.
Vic caught Ben's chin and looked straight at him. "Then you do the best you can and forget it. That's all I expect."
Ben inhaled deeply and slowly released the cleansing breath. "You aren't disappointed?"
"Benjamin," Vic said disbelievingly.
"I thought you would be," Ben confessed.
"No. I'll never think badly of you when you do your best. Never."
Ben slipped his fingers into Vic's and kept his focus on their hands. He said softly, "I should have told you. I felt like crap about it, and I wanted you to know but I didn't want you to know. You know?"
Vic fought the urge to say "huh?" and said instead, "Yes, I understand, but you should have told me. Even if you know I might not like something and you might not like the outcome, you need to tell me these things. Look what ended up happening. We could have avoided all this."
"Yeah, if you hadn't stuck me in the corner…" Ben said.
"I beg your pardon?" Vic asked incredulously.
"Well, I was bored. And if you hadn't been so cranky…"
"Benjamin."
Ben shrugged and said, "I was upset."
Vic nodded. "Upset doesn't give you the right to peel paint off the walls."
"Yes, sir. I hated the corner though."
"About the corner…" Vic said, studying the missing patches of paintwork.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"That was overkill, Vic. I had already been punished. I shouldn't have had to paint, too," Ben said as he reflected. He stroked the roller of paint over the corner in question, the brush strokes from his handiwork two years previously, disappearing under the new color.
"What did you expect?" Vic asked. "I certainly didn't do it, so I shouldn't have had to fix it. And it needed to be fixed."
"But it was your fault for putting me there to begin with," Ben said, turning from the corner.
"It was your fault for not behaving yourself while you were there."
"It was your fault because you were cranky."
"It was your fault because *you* were cranky," Vic said with a grin.
Ben laughed and said, "You gave as good as you got."
"Um, hmm," Vic said. He studied the trim and carefully ran the paintbrush over the edge, being careful of the wall.
"It was horrible. I got spanked, then you made me spackle and paint!" Ben announced indignantly.
"But you've never peeled paint off the wall again, so it worked."
"You know what I think?" Ben asked, stopping what he was doing.
"What's that?"
"I think you should paint the corner. I'm having post-traumatic stress working here."
"I'll give you post-traumatic stress."
"You know the best thing for stress, don't you?" Ben asked.
"What?" Vic asked, his forehead creased from his concentration on the woodwork.
"Exercise," Ben said.
"Exercise?" Vic dipped the brush in the can of paint and raised his eyebrows enticingly at his partner. "Hurry up so we can do something more fun then. I have some… 'stretching' we can work on."
"Now, you're talking!" Ben said.
~end~
