No More Lies

Summary: Tag to season one episode 14: Eye of the Needle. Gil realises Malcolm is lying to him and does something about it. Set in the same ‘verse as the rest of my series
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers up to and including episode 14 of Prodigal Son; references to violence

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Gil stared at Bright, into the kid’s eyes, and waited for that certainty to hit him. Waited for that knowledge that he was being told the truth.

It didn’t come to him. “Damn it, Bright. You’re lying to me,” Gil muttered.

The reactions were minute; or would be, to anyone other than Gil. The tremor in the hand wasn’t one of them; that was something they could all read. But it was the widening of the eyes. The stiffening of his shoulders. And the stubborn set to his jaw that made it clear he was opening his mouth to voice yet another lie.

“Save it, Bright,” Gil stated. “I can tell when you’re lying to me, kid. And I’ve gotta say, I’m sick of hearing those lies.” He reached out and clasped the younger man’s shoulder, squeezing close to the neck. “Try telling me the truth, for once.”

“I can’t.” Bright closed his eyes, conflict clear on his face.

“Kid, you’re like a son to me,” Gil stated. “You tell anyone about this, it should be me.”

“I’m not telling anyone.” Bright opened his eyes and took a step back. Then, he winced and shook his head. An earnest note crept into his voice as he said, “I’m not lying.”

Gil glanced past Bright, through the window where the Surgeon was hooked up to machines, locked inside a coma…inside his own mind. And part of Gil hoped that Martin Whitly would never wake up. Except that would cause all sorts of problems for the family he’d left with his legacy. He pulled his eyes away from the unconscious (and maybe dying) serial killer and turned his gaze back onto his surrogate son. “You won’t help anything by staying here, kid. If his condition changes, they’ll let you know. I think it’s about time we had a talk.”

Bright’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “I don’t want to have a talk,” he muttered, sounding just like a petulant child.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Gil wrapped his arm around Bright’s shoulders and drew the younger man close against his side. He turned Bright’s body away from Martin’s limp form and led him out of the hospital and towards his waiting car.

Bright’s smile was faint as he said, “I see insurance came through for your new car.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking about taking out a new policy, for Malcolm Bright incidents.” Gil unlocked the car and gently pushed Bright into the passenger seat, then got in the driver’s side.

“It was only one car,” Bright protested.

“And knocking all the power out in the precinct.”

Bright squirmed in his seat. “But that all worked out for the best.”

“Eventually. But the results don’t change the facts.” Gil put his seatbelt on, checked to make sure Malcolm was wearing his and began driving to the kid’s loft. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man squirming in his seat, fidgeting with his hands. He looked like a little boy who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Which wasn’t far from the truth when it came to Malcolm Bright.

Gil didn’t speak as he parked outside the loft. He got out of the car and moved round to the passenger side, opening the door for Malcolm.

Movements slow and reluctant, Malcolm got out of the car and glanced at Gil. “You want me to unlock the door?”

“It’s not gonna unlock itself, kid.”

Malcolm glanced at Gil’s waist, specifically at his belt, but didn’t say anything as he walked towards the door. He took out his keys, opened the door and waved Gil inside first.

Gil kept quiet as they walked up the stairs, not speaking until they were in the main room. Then, he turned to the younger man. “I’ll make this simple, kid. I know you’re lying to me. And I’m going to spank you for that. But I’ll give you another chance to tell me the truth. You don’t take that chance? This is coming off.” His fingers brushed along the dark brown leather of his belt.

Malcolm’s eyes shifted towards the belt and then he swallowed hard before glancing away and at the floor. “You don’t understand, Gil.” His voice was low. Pleading. His shoulders slumped, he looked every inch the naughty, guilty boy he so often acted the part of.

“I understand well enough, kid. I understand there’s something you’re not telling me.” Gil grasped Malcolm’s shoulder and held a finger up in front of the younger man’s nose. “If I don’t know, I can’t help you, Malcolm.”

Malcolm raised his eyes to Gil’s face and swallowed hard. “You’re not talking to me as my boss right now. You’re talking to me as my dad. Am I right?”

Gil searched Malcolm’s face for several moments before he nodded. “Yeah, kid. I’m dealing with this as your father.”

“Okay.” Malcolm took a deep breath. “What I say doesn’t leave this room. Okay?”

“Malcolm….”

“I need your promise, Gil. Dad.” Malcolm’s eyes searched his face. “It’s important.”

Gil sighed and nodded. He walked over to the couch and sat down, drawing Malcolm down to sit next to him and wrapping an arm around his kid’s shoulders. “Talk. Or you’ll be doing that face down across my knee.”

“It wasn’t Mom who stabbed the Surgeon,” Malcolm admitted, his voice low. Hollow.

“You did.” Gil wasn’t surprised. The kid had been carrying all kinds of guilt that could have only come from watching his mother take the fall for something he’d done.

“I was sure I could do it without killing him,” Malcolm admitted. “But she was only supposed to take the fall for it until we caught the real killer. She just won’t let me give myself up.”

“She wants to protect you,” Gil replied. “And she’s not wrong. But now that I know, I can help. Protect her and protect you.” He closed his hand around Malcolm’s wrist. “But you’ve got to trust me, kid. You can’t keep things like this hidden from me.” He gave a sharp tug and yanked the younger man across his lap.

Malcolm’s breath escaped in a rush of air that turned into a whimper when Gil yanked his pants down, following those with his briefs. And then Gil raised his hand and brought it down in a firm smack at the crest of his son’s bottom.

Malcolm yelped and threw his hand back to cover his backside.

Gil just grabbed the kid’s hand and held it out of the way, against the small of his back, as he continued to smack the bared backside over his knee. “No more lies, Malcolm.” His voice was very low and very stern. He smacked in a steady, methodical pattern, working his way from the crest down to mid-thigh.

When Malcolm’s entire bottom was a deep pink, bordering on red, Gil began to put a bit more force and speed behind the smacks. The kid began to squirm in earnest and Gil paused long enough to pull Malcolm in tight against his stomach, the smacks echoing through the room.

“I’ll try not to lie to you again!” Malcolm managed to get out.

“No trying, son,” Gil responded. He moved his hand a bit lower; lifted his leg to expose the creases between Malcolm’s buttocks and thighs. And then he began to smack firmly there, colouring the sit spots the same shade of red as the rest of Malcolm’s bottom.

Those swats broke the kid and Malcolm slumped across Gil’s lap, sobbing.

Gil paused and rubbed low down on Malcolm’s back. “Are we clear, kid? Next time you lie to me, even if you have a really good reason for it, I’ll use my belt. And I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. Don’t ever lie to me again.” The last six words were each punctuated by an extra hard smack, three each to Malcolm’s sit spots, right where he’d feel it when he sat.

Malcolm cried out and Gil resumed rubbing his back for a few more moments before he pulled the kids’ clothing back into place. He then helped Malcolm to stand and wrapped his arms tightly around his son.

Malcolm wrapped his arms just as tight around Gil and drew in a deep, shaky breath before whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, son. And I forgive you. And so long as you don’t lie to me again, we’re all good.” Gil hugged him a bit tighter and then led Malcolm over to the fridge. “So. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got in. Shall we?”

The End