Importance Of Backup

Summary: Tag to episode eight. Gil impresses on Malcolm just why he needs to call for backup

Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers up to and including season one episode eight; references to violence

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Gil eyed Malcolm, taking in everything about the younger man. The desperate look on his face. The tremors he couldn't hide. The silent pleading that Gil not take this away from him. And he also took in the bandages wrapped around Malcolm's torso. He could have lost Malcolm today and that thought terrified him. “You're going home.” The hurt, devastated look that passed across Malcolm's face, however briefly, had him adding, “And waiting for the call.”

Bright's face lit up like a kid getting the gift at the top of his wishlist. He quickly nodded. “Yeah. I promise I'll let you know soon as I hear from him.”

“You won't need to call me.” Gil clapped a hand on Bright's shoulder and squeezed. “I'm coming back to your apartment with you.”

“Why?” Bright narrowed his eyes in confusion, even as he took half a step closer to Gil.

“I figure it'll be a while before he gets in touch,” Gil answered. “Time enough for us to get there. I'll make you something to eat. Then I'll turn you over my knee and blister your ass so you remember it the next time you're tempted to take off without waiting for backup. And then you'll be taking a nap.”

Bright pulled back, his mouth falling open. “You're going to what?”

Gil clasped his shoulder a bit more firmly. “Kid, if you make a scene, everyone's going to know what will happen because I'll blister your ass here and now if I have to. Do you understand?”

Swallowing visibly, Bright looked into Gil's eyes for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yes. I understand.”

“Good. We'll take my car.” Gil used his grip on Bright's shoulder to steer him out of the office.

No one stopped them, even if one or two officers did glance in their direction with curious looks. Gil was silent as he led Bright to his car and unlocked it. “Get in.” He waited for the younger man to obey before moving round to the driver's side and getting in himself.

Bright didn't speak until they were on the road, staring out of the window. “Dani told you I slept after she punched me. Didn't she?”

“Whether she told me or not is irrelevant,” Gil responded. “This isn't the first dangerous stunt you've pulled. I'm not letting it slide any longer, kid.”

Bright didn't answer. Whether because he knew he couldn't talk himself out of it, or because he felt he deserved it, Gil didn't know. But he didn't speak either.

By the time they reached Bright's apartment, the tension in the car was palpable. Gil parked and then got out of the car. He moved round to the passenger side and opened the door, waited a beat and then said, “If you really want everyone to see me dragging you inside....” He reached in for the younger man's arm.

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” Bright was definitely pouting as he clambered out of the car. He eyed Gil and shuffled round the car, moving quickly to the door to his apartment and unlocking it.

After locking his car door, Gil followed Bright into the apartment and into the living area. “You've got food in, right?” he asked the younger man. As he spoke, he undid the belt from around his waist. Walking over to the sofa, he draped the belt over the back and then turned to face the other man, raising his eyebrows.

Bright's eyes were fixed on the belt, which was wide and made of black leather. Without looking away from it, he nodded slowly. “Yeah.” In a much quieter voice, he asked, “I was really bad?”

“Really reckless.” Gil walked over to Bright and clasped his shoulder. He turned the younger man and gave his backside a light smack, then several more to propel him towards the corner. Each one echoed dully in the apartment.

As soon as he was stood in the corner, Bright's hands moved to his backside and he rubbed. “Ouch.”

Grasping Bright's wrists, Gil pulled them away from his bottom and set them against his sides. “Don't move until I come and get you.” To emphasise how serious he was, he delivered a firmer smack to Bright's bottom and then stepped away to begin preparing food, keeping an eye on the younger man.

Bright didn't move, other than to shuffle his feet a bit, as Gil began to cook pasta. He found some fresh ingredients and began to chop up peppers and chicken to add to the pasta before beginning to cook the meal.

It was a good twenty minutes before the food was prepared and Gil was putting it into two bowls. He placed them on the table and then walked over to the corner, clasping Bright's shoulder and drawing him out of the corner. He led him towards the table and pushed him into one of the chairs. “I expect you to finish everything.”

Bright looked down at the bowl and slowly picked up the spoon. As he began to eat, he asked quietly, “Are you really going to use your belt?”

“What do you think?” Gil asked, taking his own seat and beginning to eat.

Bright's gaze darted up towards his face and then returned to the bowl of food as he reluctantly began to spoon it into his mouth. “I think you're worried about me. You're someone whose opinion I really care about. I know you're frustrated with me. I don't intentionally do things to endanger myself. I don't actually have a death wish.”

That brought a laugh from Gil, even though it had no humour in it. “The amount of dangerous, reckless stunts you perform, you're going to get yourself killed eventually. Deliberately or not. Tanning your ass is going to do two things, I hope. First, give you something to think about. Second, it's sure as hell going to give me some satisfaction.”

“Oh.” Bright continued eating in silence. It was slow, but eventually, his bowl was finished. He let go of the spoon and then raised his eyes to Gil's. “Did you want me back in the corner? Or to help clear up?”

“I'll clear up when we're finished here.” Gil stood up and walked over to Bright's side of the table. He gripped the younger man's shoulder and pulled him up out of his seat, then walked over to the couch, leading the other man behind him.

Bright didn't fight or protest as Gil led him towards the couch. As Gil sat down, he undid the button and zip on his jeans, then shrugged. “Figure if you want to make an impression, you'll be taking them down. Thought I'd make it easier on you.”

Not voicing a response to that, Gil drew Malcolm across his lap, securing him in place with a cushion under his bandaged torso. He then tugged the other man's pants down, allowing them to settle around Malcolm's ankles. He then began to smack firmly, working over every inch of Malcolm's bottom, from the crest down to his thighs.

The smacks were delivered methodically. Gil's palm was firm, but he didn't use too much force. Not at first, anyway. With each circuit, he began to smack a fraction harder, until the fourth circuit had Malcolm beginning to whine quietly.

Tugging Malcolm's underwear down, revealing his pinkened bottom, Gil spoke quietly. “You could have been killed today, kid.” He delivered a much harder smack that echoed through the apartment like a gunshot and made Malcolm jump. “You took off after a suspect without a word.” A matching harder smack that made Malcolm yelp and kick his legs out. “You were lucky he didn't break anything.” Gil fell into a rhythm of harder smacks, turning every inch of the younger man's bottom a dark, even red.

It was when Gil focused a flurry of hard smacks to his sit spots and thighs that Malcolm threw his hand back with a choked-off sob. Gil just caught his hand and pinned it to the small of his back, then reached out to pick up the belt. Holding it doubled over in his hand, he said quietly, “I'm going to give you five with the belt. When you meet up with this killer again, I want to make sure you're still feeling this. And that a tanned ass will make you think about your own safety next time.”

Another quiet sob was the only answer.

Gil brought the belt down firmly, though used only a fraction more strength than he'd used for the hand spanking.

Malcolm's whole body jerked and he sobbed harder.

Hardening his heart to the tears, Gil brought the belt down a second and third time, landing the stripes far enough apart that they didn't overlap. By the time he brought the belt down a fifth time, Malcolm was crying hard, his body slumped over Gil's knees.

Putting the belt down, Gil carefully guided Malcolm up off his lap and into his arms. “I can't lose you, kid,” he whispered. “You're the closest thing to a son I've got.”

Malcolm didn't voice a response. He wrapped his arms tightly around Gil and, shivering, let his forehead fall against Gil's shoulder.

They stayed like that for several long minutes; long enough for Malcolm's sobs to quieten down to sniffles and whimpers. Gil rubbed his hand slowly down Malcolm's back and then said softly, “I'll help you get into those restraints. You can leave the pants off. Soon as contact's made, I'll wake you up.”

“Okay.” Malcolm pulled back slowly and wiped at his eyes. He put both hands on his bottom and rubbed. “That hurt.”

“Good. Remember that feeling and next time, maybe you'll take better care.” Gil wrapped his arm around Malcolm's shoulders and led the younger man over to the bed.

It didn't take long before the younger man was safely settled in the restraints. He lay on his stomach rather than his back and closed his eyes as Gil sat on the bed next to him, rubbing his hair and back.

“You'd better not stay there long,” Malcolm muttered. “Might end up attacking you.”

“I can handle things.” Gil squeezed his shoulder gently.

Malcolm didn't respond. And a few seconds later, he let out a quiet snore.

The End