Close To The Edge

Summary: Tag to season one episode Designer Complicity. JT notices that Malcolm has been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for seasons one and two of Prodigal Son; references to violence and character death; AU
Author's Note: Don't worry - I'm not abandoning Into The Dreaming! But after starting a rewatch of Prodigal Son with some friends on a Discord community, this plot kitten bit and wouldn't let go. I haven't returned to this fandom in a while, so I hope you enjoy it!

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"So. You gonna tell me what's got you so twitchy on this case?"

Malcolm blinked, glancing up at JT. After fixing him with the wire, the rest of the team had left him alone in the interrogation room, to figure out what he was going to say to get the real killer to confess. He was reasonably sure that none of them were standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, but if anyone was going to be talking to him right now, he would have thought it was Gil. Not JT.

Smiling, Malcolm put the file down on the table and hid his shaky, bandaged hand below the surface. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look, man." JT perched on the edge of the table, making eye contact with him. "You've been acting weird since this case started. More weird than usual. You think none of us have noticed?"

Malcolm cocked his head to one side. "You want me to feel safe...comfortable to talk to you. An authority figure, but still like we're on the same level. That's why you're sitting on the table, instead of standing over me. Still taller, bigger, than me...but trying not to trigger a fight or flight response in me."

"Don't try that psycho analysing shit on me," JT said. "I don't know why Gil's given you free reign to do whatever the hell you want...."

"I get results."

"By telling a man he was going to die."

"Everything I do, I do to solve the case and stop more people from dying," Malcolm said. "I get results. Okay, so my ways of getting results aren't exactly conventional. But they work." An earnest note crept into his voice. "I want the same thing you do. I just go about it  a different way."

"Different." JT snorted. "That's a damn understatement, if I ever heard one." He paused and then sighed. "Look, Bright. I'm not saying you don't get results. I'm not even saying you're entirely wrong. But you've been acting unhinged since this case started. What gives?"

Malcolm's hand was shaking again. He could feel it, even if it was under the table and he therefore couldn't see it. He placed his other hand on top of the shaking one and squeezed hard, trying to still the reaction. He forced a smile to his face and said, keeping his voice as light as possible, "Nothing's wrong with me, JT." Trying to deflect the conversation away from this dangerous territory, he picked a topic that he knew would irritate the other man. "You still haven't told me what it stands for, by the way. Jeremy? Jerome? It's James, isn't it?"

JT snorted softly and stood up, walking over to the door.

Letting out his breath slowly, Malcolm turned his attention back to the files in front of him. He heard the click of the door being closed, but instead of JT leaving, he heard the sound of feet moving quickly towards him...and then the files were plucked from his hand. "Hey."

"Look, Bright, I'm not going to talk around in circles with you. Something's going on with you, and if you're not talking about it, I'm gonna provide some incentive for you to do so."

"Some incentive?" Malcolm repeated. "What are you going to do? Give me a gold star, or some candy, if I talk to you?"

"No. I'd say that's not a bad idea, but I've seen you on a sugar rush," JT muttered. "Just like a child." He took his seat on the edge of the desk once more and then reached out, clasping Malcolm's shoulder and pulling him to his feet.

Malcolm thought briefly about fighting back. About pulling away. About resisting. But part of him wanted to see how far this would go. How far JT would take this. Did the other man actually care about him? Or was he just finally pushing back against the irritation Malcolm always caused him?

In spite of his decision to let things happen, to let the situation progress as JT chose, Malcolm couldn't lie and claim he wasn't surprised when JT pulled him forward, shoving him across his raised leg until Malcolm was bent over his knee. His chest was resting on the table and his feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor. His bottom was the highest point of his body, elevated over JT's raised leg.

The first smack to his upper right buttock took Malcolm by surprise, and his whole body jerked as the sting blossomed. "That hurt!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's what it's meant to do."

Before Malcolm could find the words to respond to that statement, JT was unleashing a full volley of smacks to his upturned bottom and thighs. Despite his pants being in place, it didn't take long for the sting to set in...and once JT was revisiting skin he'd already smacked once, Malcolm was squirming and whining. After one stinging smack to his upper right thigh, he threw his hand back to cover his bottom protectively. "Wait."

JT smacked his opposite thigh, where his hand didn't cover, and asked, "Wait for what?"

Malcolm sniffled, surprised to find himself close to tears already. He'd been hurt before, with physical pain far worse than a stinging butt. However, something about this position...about the repetitive smacks that he couldn't adjust to...caused his defences to drop faster than they ever had before. He felt like a child. More than that, he felt like a naughty child.

JT didn't wait for a response for long. He grasped Malcolm's hand, pulling it out of the way and holding it against his back, and then began to swat harder and faster. "You're gonna head right off the rails if no one tries to stop you, Bright. What's it gonna be next time? Actively hurting someone to get answers from them? It's a slippery slope, man."

The tears began to slide down Malcolm's cheeks. "I'm not him." He whispered the words quietly; they weren't really meant to carry to JT's ears. They were the mantra he spoke to himself, every day. I'm not him. Yes, the Surgeon had killed and tortured so many people; likely many more people than the media knew about (...the girl in the box...) but Malcolm wasn't the same as him. He might be Martin Whitly's son, but that didn't mean he was anything like his father.

"I know." JT's admittance wasn't loud, but it was sure. And it was certain. "Took me a little while to figure that out, but I know you're nothing like him."

"Then why are...you doing this?" Malcolm managed to get out through his tears. Spanking was usually used as a punishment on children. Malcolm wasn't a child. He couldn't really say he hadn't done anything deserving of punishment, though. But he was reasonably sure JT didn't know all the things he'd done.

"Last case, you checked yourself out of the hospital. Against medical advice." JT began to swat a fraction harder and faster as he continued, "And this time, you told a guy he was gonna die. Yeah, you got the information out of him. That doesn't mean what you did was right."

"But don't you want justice?!" Malcolm squirmed more forcefully before realising it was fruitless. He slumped over JT's lap and just began to sob as the burning increased to a point where it was completely unbearable.

"Yeah. But not at that cost." JT stopped spanking and he began to rub Malcolm's back, the hand that had given him stinging, burning pain now providing warm, soothing comfort.

Malcolm felt a tension that he hadn't even realised was there seep out of his body. It took a little while, but his sobs finally died down to quiet sniffles. He raised his free hand and rubbed at his eyes before saying, in a plaintive voice, "I'm sorry." He didn't really know what he was apologising for, what he'd done wrong, but JT was upset with him. More upset than usual. So he must have done something wrong.

JT's sigh was heavy, but there was an odd, almost soft note to it. "Yeah. I get it." He continued rubbing for a few more moments, then grasped Malcolm's shoulder and stood him up. As soon as he caught a glimpse of Malcolm's face, he sighed and wrapped his arms around Malcolm, hugging him close. "You've gotta have more control over your behaviour, Bright. You don't want to be fired as a consultant, do you?"

"They wouldn't fire me. I'm too damn good at what I do." Malcolm sniffled, wincing as what should have come out as confident and sure of himself came out shaky and uncertain.

"No arguments from me," JT agreed. "But that doesn't mean they won't try."

Malcolm didn't say anything, just let himself press a bit closer to JT and accept the comfort. After all of the emotional upheaval he'd been going through recently, it was nice to have some comfort from someone who wasn't trying to use or manipulate him. Even if he had to get a sore butt to have the comfort. 

The End