Big Brother Takes Control

Summary: Follows Loaded Gun. Tag to episode twelve. J.T. does a bit more than just hold Malcolm back

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers up to and including season one episode twelve of Prodigal Son; some references to violence

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It took a few moments for Malcolm to realise J.T.'s hand was on his biceps, holding him back. Stopping him from interrogating Curtis. And that part of him he'd let out when his family had been in danger demanded he break the other man's grip. Even going so far as punching him in the face, if necessary.

J.T.'s grip became a bit firmer and he shot a quick glance towards Gil before addressing Malcolm. “We're going to have a little chat.”

The sinking pit in Malcolm's stomach was the same feeling he'd had when Gil had spanked him previously. He stepped back, but as J.T. had shifted his grip to Malcolm's shoulder, all moving back did was draw J.T. after him.

Malcolm darted a glance towards Gil. “Aren't you coming?” He wasn't asking for help. He wasn't asking Gil to save him. And he certainly wasn't whining.

Gil looked at J.T., like he was searching in the other man's face. Finally, he nodded, before addressing Malcolm. “Go with him, kid.”

Malcolm's mouth dropped open and he stared accusingly at his mentor. “Gil.”

“Come on, bro.” J.T. began to lead him towards one of the empty rooms.

It took only a second for Malcolm's options to cycle through his mind. If he pulled back and broke J.T.'s grip, it would make a scene. If he dragged his feet, it would draw too much attention. And he couldn't voice any more protests, as that would draw even more attention.

And then it was just him and J.T. in the room and any carefully prepared thoughts and plans flew out of his head. So he stood up straighter and taller and glared at J.T. and said, without whining, “What are you doing?”

“I figured I'd tell you the facts you're too stubborn to face,” J.T. stated. “You were kidnapped and tortured. Instead of taking the time off to actually recover, you decided to come right back to work.” He stared hard into Malcolm's eyes. “And you're not ready for it, bro. You're all over the place. I just had to hold you back from taking a swing at Curtis.”

“I didn't ask you to hold me back,” Malcolm muttered. “And I wouldn't have taken a swing.” He felt the need to add that. “I have control of myself. I don't need you to do...well, this.” He spread his arms out, trying to encompass everything J.T. had done and was doing.

J.T. just raised his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”

Since he no longer needed to worry about making a scene, Malcolm pulled back and glowered at the other man. “Why do you even care?” he demanded. The petulant note in his own voice was obvious to his own ears. He could only hope he didn't sound like a whiny child to J.T. “You don't even like me being around. At all.”

“That's not....” J.T. paused and sighed. He took a deep breath. “Look. It's not that I don't like you. You're like a little brother. An annoying little brother who I can't shake, but still.”

Malcolm's eyes widened and then a hopeful smile spread across his face. “Really? But you've been telling me to go home the whole length of this case.”

“Because you're not in great shape. You were stabbed, bro.” J.T. took a step closer to him. “You damaged your own hand. And, yeah, I get why. Not sure I could have done the same thing in your position and I got a lot of admiration for you doing it. But that doesn't mean I think you should be back here. You think I can't see that something's haunting you? I recognise that look. There're a lot of cases that stay with me long after they're over and done with.”

“I'm fine.” The denial slipped out automatically. Malcolm grinned at J.T. and was fairly sure it looked normal. Not manic in any way. “So, if you think of me like a little brother, does that mean you'll tell me what the J stands for?” he asked hopefully.

“You're not taking this seriously.” J.T. stepped closer to him and reached out, grabbing his arm. He began to back towards the table in the room.

Malcolm immediately began pulling back, trying to stop the forward momentum. The privacy of the room, the being pulled along, J.T.'s comments...all were piecing together in his mind what was about to happen. “You can't do this,” he protested.

“I think you'll find that I can. And I am.” J.T. reached the table and propped his leg up on the opposite edge. In one swift movement, he pulled Malcolm up and over his bent leg, trapping him in place with his arm pulled up behind his back.

This position was different to when he was over Gil's lap on the sofa. For one thing, he was dangling in position and had to grab onto J.T.'s leg to steady himself. And for another...it wasn't Gil who was taking him in hand this time. It was J.T. Who'd just declared himself Malcolm's big brother. Well, that Malcolm was his little brother; but it meant the same thing, didn't it?

The first smack was hard enough to dispel Malcolm's thoughts and he gasped, his grip on J.T.'s leg tightening. He tried to hold back his whimpers as J.T.'s palm made every inch of his bottom sting, but couldn't hold them in as the other man began to cover skin that had already received attention.

While his pants stopped the smacks from stinging as sharply as when Gil had spanked him bare, but it was four circuits in that Malcolm began squirming uncontrollably. His bottom was beginning to heat to uncomfortable levels and when J.T. began to concentrate more swats to his sit spots and thighs, right where he would feel it when he sat down, he yelled out, “I have to keep busy!” To his horror, his eyes were beginning to blur with tears. He blinked frantically, trying to stop them from falling.

“You don't have to keep busy with work, bro. There are plenty of other things you can do to keep busy.”

Malcolm tried to respond, but the smacks increased in force and speed and he had to worry about stifling his yelps instead. He gripped tighter around J.T.'s leg. “When I'm here, I'm at least doing good.” His voice was strained and the final word ended on a sob.

“I'm not saying you don't do good here, bro,” J.T. replied. “But if you'd got physical with a suspect, Gil wouldn't be able to protect you.”

“I wouldn't have,” Malcolm muttered. He was blinking rapidly, but the tears were still falling. He was crying and squirming, but there was no chance he could get away. J.T. held him too tight. Too secure.

“This case is personal,” J.T. said. “I get it. I've had those. But you know you've gotta keep your head clear, right, bro? You won't help her if you lose your mind over this. Do your profiling. You know it goes higher up. Take a step back. You can even come meet me at the bar again.”

That startled a choked laugh from Malcolm. “You're volunteering to spend time with me?” He slowly loosened his death grip on J.T.'s leg and wiped at the tears on his face. “Maybe I'll be able to beat you at pool this time.”

“Don't push your luck.” J.T. helped Malcolm to stand up. He straightened and clasped Malcolm's shoulder in a tight squeeze, then turned him round towards the door.

“They're gonna know you just spanked me.” Malcolm couldn't keep the pout from his voice as he reached back to rub at his stinging bottom. It wasn't unbearably painful; his pants had offered enough protection that J.T.'s spanking hadn't been as painful as Gil's. Not that he would tell J.T. that. He certainly wasn't going to give the other man any ideas.

“Room's soundproofed,” J.T. answered. “The only one who'll know is Gil. And that's only because, if he didn't know I was doing this, he'd be storming in here to save you.”

“I don't need saving from you.” Malcolm said the words without thinking. He chanced a glance back over his shoulder at J.T.

“Yeah,” the other man agreed. “You really don't.” He steered Malcolm out of the room and back towards the rest of the team.

The End