Artist/Author: rosesofred
Title: Learn To Listen
Fandom: Prodigal Son
Summary: Malcolm just can’t listen, can he?
Notes & Warnings: spanking
Malcolm was especially hyper today, a hop in his step that wasn’t there before. Gil had tried telling him to go home, that there wasn’t anything for him to work on, but the boy insisted. “Would you believe that homicide is the only thing keeping me sane?” The room fell silent and Malcolm looked around, suddenly very aware of how wrong that sounded. “Solving it, not doing it,” he explained. He avoided eye contact, face burning at being suddenly noticed by the entire police department.
“You heard me, Malcolm. Go home.”
“But Gil-”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned. His hands went to his hips, a grim look on his face. His son was obviously not doing well, the boy’s exhausted features were testament to that.
Malcolm rolled his eyes, unaware of how close to the line he was dancing. “There’s got to be something,” he tried. Taking note of the eye roll but deciding to put it on the backburner, Gil sighed. Just then JT and Dani walked by, commenting on how awful he looked. “Where are they going?” he asked excitedly, pointing after the detectives.
“Not for you,” Gil said with a sense of finality.
Malcolm glared at him, a look of defiance in his tired eyes. From Gil’s point of view the man looked like a pouty teenager trying to get his way. “Let me come along. You won’t even notice me.”
“No, Malcolm. Do as you’re told.” Gil was growing tired of this argument, very close to deciding his son needed discipline. But if he was going to act like a defiant brat than the lieutenant was ready to deal with that.
“I’m not a kid, Gil!”
“Fine,” the older man sighed, shaking his head. He took Malcolm by the arm, leading him through the police station to his office. Once inside, Gil locked the door and began shutting all the blinds, much to Malcolm’s growing concern.
“What are you doing?” he asked, clenching and unclenching his fist.
“What does it look like I’m doing? We’re going to have a discussion, city boy.”
Panicking now, Malcolm went for the door only to find it locked with no chance of escape. Shaking the handle, the boy kicked the door in frustration.
“Cool it, or do you want to let the whole station know?”
Paling at the prospect, Malcolm turned towards his mentor and swallowed. “You can’t, not here!”
“I can, and it’s happening. You’ve been asking for it since you came in.” Folding his arms, Gil gave his son a stern look as the conversation got more serious. “You been sleeping?”
“Yes,” he lied. His hand began shaking then and Malcolm threw it behind his back, not wanting his secret to be found out.
Gil only gave him a knowing look, disappointed at seeing his adopted son was lying again. “Have you eaten today?” Malcolm nodded his head, his throat suddenly very dry. “Well you look great,” he said sarcastically. The younger man rolled his eyes again, knowing his mentor had found him out. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
Freezing again, Malcolm shook his head no. “I didn’t mean to.”
“What’s with the attitude?”
“I don’t have an attitude,” he replied poisonously.
“Oh I think you do. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“No,” the consultant said snidely.
Nodding his head in understanding, Gil walked the short distance to his son, grabbing him by the arm. “If that’s how you want to act, fine.” Pulling away, Malcolm dug his heels into the carpet as his mentor tugged him along. Stopping at the edge of the room, Gil positioned Malcolm so he was facing the corner, his nose touching the wall.
“Wha-” Malcolm turned to look as his father figure, confusion clear in his knit eyebrows.
“You’re going to stay here until I say you can come out, understand?”
“Gil, no!” Malcolm backed away from the corner, his fists clenched again. “I’m not a child!”
“Well you’re certainly acting like one,” Arroyo commented. Taking Malcolm by the arm again, he shoved the boy back into the corner, determined to get through to him. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Glaring at his mentor, Malcolm said with venom, “If you think I’m standing in the corner like some naughty child, you’re crazy.”
“You are a naughty child, Malcolm. And if you don’t want to stand in the corner, that’s fine too. You can stand in the corner after I tan your backside.” Malcolm opened and shut his mouth, his jaw tensing in frustration. “You’ve got ten minutes. Come out of that corner and you’re going right over my knee,” Gil warned. Finally nodding his head in understanding, Malcolm rested his forehead against the wall.
At least the boy seemed to be accepting his punishment, Gil thought. He went back over to his desk, sitting behind it to work on some paperwork. He set a timer on his phone, keeping a watchful eye on the boy while he worked. He couldn’t help but notice how his son’s shoulders slumped, the way he held himself like a kicked puppy. Today was not a good day for the consultant but Gil knew he had to fulfill his duty as the boy’s mentor. Without guidance and discipline, Malcolm would spiral out of control and probably get himself killed, something Arroyo couldn’t bare thinking about.
His timer going off, Gil straightened up his desk in preparation for the coming event. “Alright, Malcolm. Come here.”
Turning to face him, Bright shook his head no, backing himself up against the wall. “Please not here,” he begged.
“Too bad, Bright. You need this and I think you know that.”
“I don’t need this! This is ridiculous!” Malcolm’s foot stamped on the ground, his temper getting the best of him.
“Keep it up, Malcolm. If you want to make it worse for yourself, go right ahead.”
“You can’t do this,” he tried.
“Do I need to come and get you? Or are you going to do as I told you and come here?”
Malcolm threw his hands down in frustration, his lack of control in the situation making him angry. When Gil took a step towards him, the consultant’s hands flew up in front of him in defense and he quickly made his way to the other side of the room, backing himself into another corner. “You can’t, please! Gil, please!” Not watching where he was going, Malcolm tripped over the garbage can and fell backwards, landing hard on his backside.
Taking the opportunity for what it was, Gil helped the boy up and dragged him over to the desk, a death grip on his bicep. “Are you alright?” he asked as he turned the boy to face him. Nodding his head, Malcolm’s eyes were pouty and big, no doubt his attempt to persuade the older man. “Come on, let's get this over with.” Gil lifted his leg and rested it on the seat of the chair in front of his desk, eliciting a very confused look from his son.
“What are you-” before Malcolm could get out the rest of his sentence, he found himself hoisted up and thrown across his mentor’s lifted knee. Shrieking in surprise and embarrassment, Malcolm scrambled for balance, grabbing onto his mentor’s ankle for support. His feet were far off the floor and the position made him feel all of 5 years old again. “No no no no,” he protested, though no amount of struggling was helping. Gil had one arm wrapped around his son’s waist, the other resting against his backside, a warning to what was coming.
“You ready?”
“NO!” he shouted, his face burning red. “Let me go, you can’t! Not here, please I’ll do anything else!”
Gil’s hand came down hard over the young man’s backside, the sound of it echoing through the quiet room. Malcolm tensed in pain, horribly aware of how loud it was. He just hoped to god that nobody in the police station would be able to hear his punishment. The consultant bit his lip, his shaking hand a reminder of why this was happening. “They won’t be able to hear this,” Gil reassured as his hand came down again. “But they will be able to hear you if you make a lot of noise.” It was reassuring but also horrifying, knowing that he’d have to keep quiet or else risk the public humiliation.
Arroyo’s hand came down over and over, hard and unfaltering. He was so worried about his son, knew that the boy wasn’t ok. But how long had he been not ok, had been holding in all those awful feelings? His son was squirming back and forth now, desperately trying to get out of the line of fire but Gil’s hand found its target every time. No amount of struggling was going to deter him from giving his son this much needed discipline. Even if it did make his heart hurt, seeing the boy in pain that he was causing. Taking a moment, Arroyo lifted up Malcolm’s coat, bunching it up against the man’s back so he could hit his target easier. “Please,” the consultant whined, shifting his hips again.
“I don’t think so, we’re not even close to being finished.” Landing even harder swats to his son’s backside, Malcolm let out a yelp of surprise.
“No,” he whispered, wishing it was over and done with. Malcolm tried to slip off his mentor’s knee, using his body weight to throw off the balance. But Gil was prepared, knew he’d try something, and simply readjusted him. He grabbed the boy by his belt, lifting his hips up to reposition him across his knee. His face burning with shame, Malcolm let out a soft whine, wrapping an arm around his mentor’s leg as the slaps got harder.
“You’ve got to take better care of yourself, Malcolm” the older man lectured. Getting only silence in return, Gil took a moment to shake out the sting in his hand. “This reckless attitude is going to stop right now.” Reaching under the boy to undo his belt, Malcolm panicked and bucked his body, anxiety tight in his chest.
“No!” Malcolm reached back, holding onto his pants to keep them up.
“Malcolm, what did I say would happen if you reached back?”
Pausing only for a moment, the boy swallowed and shook his head. “Please no, let me keep them up.”
“Give me one good reason,” Gil offered.
“Because I didn’t do anything wrong! I’m fine,” the consultant lied.
Sighing, Gil used his strength to rip the pants down, Malcolm’s hands losing his grip in surprise.
“You do not lie to me,” Gil lectured, hand slapping down angrily.
“I’m not lying!” the boy cried. He kicked his legs back and forth, back arching in pain. “Please, I’m fine! Can’t we talk about this?”
Realizing that his son was making quite a racket, Gil actually considered it. Maybe he should let the boy calm down some before they continued. Slowing his hand, Gil lifted the younger man up by the hips, lowering him down to his feet in front of him. A look of utter surprise painted across his face, Malcolm’s hand shot back to rub the sting out of his backside. A small smile quirked at the edge of Gil’s mouth but he kept his stern scowl in place. “Go stand in the corner, Malcolm,” he ordered.
“Again? Why!” Malcolm’s eyebrows were knit in frustration, his big puppy dog eyes filled with tears that hadn’t fallen yet.
“Because at this rate you’re going to let the whole block know you’re getting a spanking. You need to calm down.”
Grunting in frustration, Malcolm reached down for his pants but Gil stopped him.
“I don’t think so, those stay down.”
“But Gil,” he whined. Receiving a hard look, Malcolm looked down at the floor, shoulders slumping. “Ok.” He walked over to the corner, trying not to trip over the pants at his knees.
“You can stay there until you think you’re ready,” Arroyo ordered. The lieutenant watched his son carefully, leaning up against his desk with his arms folded across his chest. He hated to do this, to be the cause of so much pain, but the man knew that Bright would benefit from it. That if he didn’t step in now, that boy was going to spiral himself to death. And there was no way in hell the lieutenant was going to let that happen.
A few minutes passed of Malcolm shifting uncomfortably, occasionally rubbing at the sore skin before he stole a glance back behind him. “Gil?”
“Yeah?” Arroyo’s eyes softened at seeing the cautious look on his son’s face.
“Can I come out now?”
“If you think you’re ready,” Gil reassured. As Malcolm made his way back over, Gil lifted his leg again, reaching a hand out to his son.
“Do you have to do it this way? Can’t I be-” Malcolm blushed at saying this, looking down at the floor. “Over your lap?”
“This is the way it’s happening, Malcolm.” He grabbed ahold of his son, lifting him once again to lie over his knee. Moving his jacket out of the way, Gil made quick work of reddening his son’s backside. It was strange, but having the boy over his knee this way, the older man really took notice of how small he was. Of just how fragile the man was, and how slight his frame was. How he fit so perfectly over just one knee, because there was nothing to him. The consultant was all skin and bones, no meat on him at all. “Do you know why you’re getting spanked?”
There was that word again, Malcolm thought. That dreaded word. Gasping at an especially hard slap, Bright lifted his head to answer. “Because I’m not taking care of myself?”
“Yes, what else?”
“I don’t know, because you want to?” the answer came out more sarcastic than he meant but there was no taking it back now.
Gil quickly tugged the boy’s underwear down, exposing the hot skin to be more thoroughly chastised. “I don’t enjoy doing this, you know that. You think I want to cause you pain?” Gil moved to his sit spots now, his hand unrelenting. “I love you like a son, I do this because I care.”
“Ok, ok!” Malcolm grabbed onto the fabric of his mentor’s pants, clenching it tightly in his fists. “I’m sorry, I know!”
“Want to try that again?” the older man returned to smacking the center of his rear, aware of how loud the boy was getting.
“I lied to you,” Malcolm admitted. He sniffled, no doubt holding back a well of tears.
“Good, now can you tell me again why that’s wrong?”
Malcolm groaned but tried to keep his overwhelming sass to a minimum. “Because nobody will trust me if lie, we’re a team, you care about me,” he drolled.
“Good.” Gil stopped to rub the sting out, his hand gentle on the abused skin. “And why do you need to take care of yourself and listen to me when I tell you no?”
“Because you care about me?”
“There you go,” Gil smiled. He took a moment to pull up the boy’s underwear and pants, patting him on the back to let him know it was finished.
Malcolm was a bit surprised if he was being honest, he’d expected a worse punishment, but he wasn’t complaining. He lowered himself from his mentor’s knee, wiping at his eyes as he stood before him. “We’re done?”
“Not quite,” Arroyo admitted. Malcolm groaned but the man decided to ignore it. He gathered his son in a hug, one hand going to hold the back of the boy’s head affectionately. “I’m coming over tonight to finish your punishment.”
Pulling out of the hug, Malcolm shot him an angry look. “Why!?”
“Because smacking you with a ruler would be too loud for a police station. Unless you want me to do it here?”
Paling at the thought, Bright shook his head no. “No, please.”
“That’s what I thought. So I expect to find you in your loft tonight by seven. Is that clear?”
Nodding his head with dread, Malcolm subconsciously reached behind him to guard his backside with his hands. “Yes.”
Gil smiled at his son, pulling him back into a hug. “You ready to face the police station now?”
His face going red, Malcolm realized suddenly that people may have been able to hear him yelling. “Oh god,” he whispered, shoulders tensing.
“I’ll walk you out, don’t worry.” Changing position, Gil rested his hand on the boys neck as he led him to the door. Unlocking it, Gil pushed his son through the door, walking out behind him. A few people looked over their way but Malcolm was relieved to find nobody gawking at them. Until he walked past one officer’s desk and found the lady smirking at him knowingly. Had she heard? Bright lowered his head, falling back to follow Gil out the entrance. “So what are you going to do?” Gil questioned.
“Go straight home and wait for you?”
“Good,” Arroyo smiled. He patted the boy on the back, proud of his son’s progress. “I’ll see you tonight.”