Chapter Text
The walk home was quiet and tense. Greg looked up at his dad walking next to him. The man looked thoughtful, irritated but deep in thought. Which probably wasn't a good thing for him. Usually, especially right before punishments, his dad would try to act calm and collected, not troubled.
To Greg’s dismay, they only lived a couple of houses away from the bakery, which meant it wasn't a long walk. Concerned, Greg hoped he somehow could change his dad's mind during this short time. "I'm sorry,” Greg tried.
But his dad only put his hand on his shoulder and said, "I know."
Which was giving him nothing to work with. Greg sighed, defeated as their front door came into view. And he felt his dad’s firm hands grasp his shoulders to lead him.
They stepped inside and hung their coats on the stand.
Greg knew what to do.
Stan always told his son that before every punishment, Greg had to stand in the corner, and this corner had a mirror. It was torture.
While he waited for his dad to call him over, he was forced to stare into his own eyes, the eyes of a guilty teen, and those eyes held deep secrets, secrets he’d never felt brave enough to squeak to a living soul. He aimed to keep it that way—because even though his dad was a saint in some respects, his dad also could get very harsh about certain behaviors. Teenage boys needed an outlet; they required some secrets that would not be shared, so they could grow apart from their parents. Become their own type of man. Greg meant well by this, and even though he believed lying sometimes was okay, it didn’t mean it was any easier to stare into that mirror as he awaited his reckoning by way of that stupid strap.
Greg sighed and glanced at his quilty reflection. He heard his dad move around behind him but he didn't dare to look. He knew he would get the strap, his dad had warned him this would happen if he wasn't nice or welcoming enough.
But Frankie had made it impossible to be nice. Why couldn’t his dad get that?
He had to stand there for several minutes before his dad called him closer. Greg turned around slowly and gulped as he saw his dad near the couch, holding the strap. He knew it.
His dad motioned him closer. The expression of the man wasn't a happy one, but Greg obeyed without question. He stood in front of the man and looked up. "Please, Dad," he tried, as his father put a hand on his back and bent him over to lean with both hands on the coffee table, ass up in the air.
The first smack took his breath away and he would've jumped away if not for the hand on his back keeping him in place. God, that hurts! The strap was mostly used for heavy punishment, and Greg didn't understand why welcoming Frankie would be so important. It’s not like he was breaking the law. It just wasn’t fair.
The strap landed again and Greg gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. It was a small relief that his pants stayed on, because the strap was never given on the bare. However, his pants were thinner than he’d remembered.
He heard the next smack before he felt the burning of where the strap had made contact and he hated it. He couldn't stay strong as his tears started falling. His face grew hot with shame as the pain increased and he wished that he could go back in time and change everything, but that was impossible. He couldn't do anything to stop what had happened. He felt another stroke and cried out at the sting. He couldn't keep the tears from rolling down.
The spanking didn't last long. He only got a couple of strokes but it felt like hours. Stan let go of Greg and gave him a quick pat on the back as he told him they were done and he could get up. Greg quickly got up and turned to glare angrily at his father, eyes almost glowing.
Stan sighed as he dropped the strap on the couch and collected his crying son in his arms. "I'm sorry I had to do that, but I've warned you. Plenty. You know better," Stan explained. He only had given the boy a couple of smacks but he knew the strap hurt a lot. He himself encountered the feeling many times as a young lad.
Greg stood huddled against his dad as he got his crying under control. "But the strap though!" Greg mumbled sadly against the man's chest. His anger had been mixed with sadness. The strap was way too much for what he did to that brat.
"I know, but I did warn you," Stan explained again.
Greg then pulled away forcefully. “It-it’s not fair! I can’t believe—it feels like you care more about Frankie than me!” Greg’s eyebrows squished together, and he just couldn’t stop his foot from cracking against the floor as his frustration flared. His dad wasn't even listening to him. And the older he got, it felt like the less his dad understood. He had already lost his mother when he was younger and he wanted to at least keep his dad. He always became nervous when his dad paid attention to other people, especially other kids. He could remember the time his dad had a date with some women. It had really upset him and he was unstoppable in throwing a fit. He had been younger than, so he couldn't remember if his dad even went on that date after that. He just knew he hated the feeling of losing his dad.
Stan’s eyebrows raised, flabbergasted that his son would be so bold as to show attitude after a punishment, especially after the strap. Maybe he hadn’t made a good enough impression yet.
“Excuse me?”
The boy tensed and slumped his head down, refusing to respond. He knew he’d made a mistake, but the emotions were difficult to handle.
Stan scoffed, still shocked at the stubbornness. He hoped Frankie wouldn’t be a poor influence on Greg. Greg had been doing so well for a while.
Stan’s voice grew gruff, his finger wagging at the boy. “Gregory, you look at me, and you try that again with a kinder tone.” The man forced the kid to lock eyes by gripping his chin. “Come on now. I don’t want to take you over my knee in addition. I imagine you are pretty sore.”
Greg did have a mouth on him, but he didn't often show physical rage but now there was something in Gregory that snapped. He became aggressive, which was usually unlike him. His dad just wasn't listening and it made him feel helpless. Thankfully the boy was wise enough to at least not lash out at his dad. However, the living room coffee table was not so lucky.
He’d kicked once before his father grabbed him and pulled him toward himself, regretfully. Stan was wanting it to be an easy lesson with an easy punishment. Or at least a quick one. He shook his head as he felt the weight of that disappointment. He could understand Greg was angry about being punished, but such a tantrum was unacceptable.
“You need to understand one thing here, boy,” the man growled. “I’ve always allowed you to share your opinions with me. But being foolish and throwing tantrums? That is not acceptable, and you know it. You are no longer four. What happens to little boys who choose what you just did?”
Greg still wouldn’t engage, so Stan gave him a solid, little shoulder shake. “Huh? Question Isn't going away.”
Greg’s chin wobbled, and he suddenly became very upset, in a tearful sort of way. He messed up. He should have controlled his anger. “I don’t—“
“Gregory…” Stan warned gruffly.
“But I don’t want—“ Greg stammered.
“Another wrong decision. I don’t want to give you another punishment, but since you are refusing—“
Stan knew this was going nowhere, that a reasoning conversation just was not panning out, so he sat down and dragged his son to slump over his knee, and without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the boy's pants and underwear down and found himself spanking Gregory in earnest, with his hand on bare skin. The boy’s bottom already had red stripes on it and now his hand was evening out that color and spreading it. Stan hated this. So much. But he hated even more the prospect of his son making decisions that could damage his success in life. Any parent would.
This really got a reaction. Greg screeched, yelled, cried—confused about his own emotions and wants and needs. Frankie’s existence really shouldn’t affect him so much, but he didn’t want to share his dad with that other kid. He’d had his dad as his only parent for years now. Since his mom had died, Stan was filling in that huge void. There was no way Greg was about to share his only parent.
Gregory coughed and bawled as his bottom blanched a deeper shade of red, and just as he thought he couldn’t take another smack, it was over. “I’m so-so-sorry Daddy.”
Now normally Greg would never use such a word as “daddy,” but this did not apply after a spanking. It had quite the way of making you feel very, very young. Stan knew the punishment was effective when that word made its appearance. Stan helped the crying teen up, and Greg nuzzled his face into his dad’s neck, allowing his father to hug him securely, for a long while, until he was left only sniffling.
At this point, Stan stood his boy up and studied his face, wiping away the pools still left under his eyes. “You’re my good boy. We need to get those glasses fixed. They sit lopsided after today’s excitement.” Stan couldn’t help but laugh, amused at it all. Sadly his son wasn’t so amused, so Stan matched the mood and went back to serious mode again. “Now you need to go get some water. Put on your pajamas. Brush your teeth. Head to bed. In that order. I’ll meet you in your room to make sure you’re in bed.”
There was no way Greg was going to argue. He was in fact very tired now, after everything. Tired and sore and shaky. Almost wobbly. He reached for his backside to make sure it was still there, and he regretted it, wheezing out a pouty sob.
The nighttime routine took less than five minutes, which was quick for Greg, who was usually a dallier. Normally his dad didn’t mind if he took a while, but Greg didn’t want to piss him off again.
When he reached his room, his dad sat on the edge of the bed, smiling very gently and reaching for him to accept a hug.
Greg couldn’t say no to that, and he barreled into the hug. So Stan sat for a while and just held him until he calmed again. “Big emotions, huh pal?”
Greg nodded, not saying a word.
Tussling the boy’s hair, he reminisced, “You know, I was your age once. It’s a tough age. Lots of things going on. You’re all over the place. I get it.”
There was this solemn, long pause where neither knew how to speak their thoughts.
With a kiss on the head and a tighter squeeze from the side, Stan assured, “I know when mom—I know it was hard. Still is. Just remember I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
Gregory hesitated, not sure if he fully trusted that statement, given the pattern in his life, but he nodded.
“I promise. Now, hop in.” Stan said as he held the blankets up. Simple one sentence commands with one quick explanation he found worked best for the teen. Otherwise he would receive a blank stare in return, or be ignored entirely. He knew how kids worked.
The boy obeyed happily, glad to end this awful day, and very soon after that, he found himself being tucked in. He hadn’t been tucked in like this in a while, but on days like today, he needed it for comfort. And Stan needed it too, for the same reason.
Dad planted another kiss on Greg’s head once he snuggly folded the boy inside his blankets, and with one smile and a wink, he turned the light off and shut the door. Stan hoped both of them would sleep well tonight. He had a feeling they would.
Sunshine found its way into Frankie's eyes. He groaned and draped his blanket over his head. He rolled over and was immediately reminded of yesterday. His butt ached and any pressure made it sting more.
That awful woman smacked him, if she thinks that will make him behave better, she is surely mistaken. This just meant war. He was going to find a way home and away from these people, no matter what.
Frankie sighed, he was ready to fight his aunt if he had too but some part of him liked having Tia or Eddy around. His dad or mother never really seemed to care. So in some way he kind of liked Tia.
There was a knock on the door. "Francisco, are you awake? It's almost 7:30am.”
Frankie groaned loudly. He takes it back, that woman is pure evil. Who wakes up at 7 on a Sunday? "I'M STILL SLEEPING!" He yelled back with as much attitude as he dared, which was still a lot. Too much for his Tia.
The door opened and Frankie opened one eye to glance at the woman who entered. He saw Tia Rosa seconds before she pulled his blankets off. "HEY!" Frankie snapped before he felt a sharp smack against his still sore behind. "Ow!" This was going to be a miserable time.
"I do not appreciate you yelling at me, Niño!" Tia said as she pulled the disgruntled teen out of bed.
"But Tia! It's Sunday, why are we awake at 7?" Frankie whined as he found his footing. He rubbed the now extra tender area of his left butt cheek as Tia pushed him gently toward his dresser.
"You can't possibly tell me you are still tired. You went to bed early." Tia said as she kissed his forehead with affection.
Frankie gave her an angry glare but she ignored him entirely, pulling out a pair of pants for him to wear. "Only because you made me!" Frankie snapped.
"Well, good thing I did. If you're still tired,“ she replied as she went through the dresser and picked out a t-shirt.
Frankie almost stomped his foot down as he glared at the women in front of him. But his aunt glared back, daring him to do anything else besides taking the shirt she held out for him. He looked at the stubborn expression of the woman and took the shirt. His butt was still hurting and he wasn't about to get smacked again. Frankie was no dummy.
Frankie sighed as he pulled the shirt over his head. "But why so early Tia!" He whined after he got his shirt on.
"It's not early, Cariño." Tia answered sweetly while she gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. "We are bakers, seven is already late for us."
Tia smiled at the completely shocked expression of the teen.
"No way!" Frankie whined. "But Tia!"
Tia shook her head and turned him towards the door. "Stop complaining, it's time for breakfast." She gently guided the teen downstairs where he saw Eddy with his stupid grin. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk by unnoticed but Eddy pulled him close by, throwing his arm around him and scrambling his hair wildly. “How is my little cousin this morning?"
"Eddy! Let go of me!" Frankie shrieked loudly. He didn't notice the front door opening and Stan and Greg walking in. He pushed his laughing cousin away and walked over to the counter. He reached for one of the little breads in the basket, but Tia smacked his hand quickly.
"Ow! what's that for?" Frankie whined. 'Really?! These people loved to smack everything they could,’ he thought.
"That is for breakfast," Tia explained, meaning the little loaves. She handed some plates to a confused Frankie.
"I was going to eat it as breakfast, so why the smacking? And what do you expect me to do with these plates?" Frankie complained.
Tia sighed but gently reminded him they ate breakfast together. "As for the plates, I want you to set the table."
Frankie scoffed and wanted to object, however Tia gently pushed him towards the table before he could. "You too, Greg." Tia said.
Frankie looked up, not noticing Greg had arrived. That geek was everywhere you looked and that mere fact was annoying him.
"Morning," Greg mumbled politely as he took the silverware from Tia. He'd seen the scowl Frankie got when he looked his way. If he wasn't playing nice, he wouldn't either. If the boy wanted a fight he could give him one, no matter what his dad or Tia had to say about it.
Stan and Eddy also helped with setting the table, as they were in their own conversation about the store and didn't notice the tension rising between the boys.
Greg put down the silverware and shot a glare at Frankie.
Frankie responded by subtly giving him the finger.
They all sat down to eat. Eddy found himself at the head of the table between the two boys, who sat across from each other. Tia sat next to Frankie and across from Stan.
The first thing Frankie did after he sat down was grab the bread. Tia again smacked his hand away.
"Why do you keep smacking me?!" He snapped.
Greg snorted but Stan gave him a stern look.
"We have to say grace before we eat,” Tia said with a sigh. It wasn't Frankie's fault that he wasn't used to family meals, but it was exhausting sometimes. The learning process was always challenging.
She closed her eyes and said grace before she gave Stan a loving smile and told everyone to dig in.
Frankie grabbed his bread, shooting a suspicious look at Tia before putting it on his plate. He put some butter and jam on it and started eating, drowning out the conversations around him.
This bread was so good! Eddy apparently was good at something, and that was baking bread. It was probably the only thing the man was actually good at, at least to Frankie’s mind. The bread sort of eased Frankie’s mood.
The teen wasn't listening to the people around him much at all until one sentence broke through. "I think going to church today would be good for Frankie," Tia said.
The whole table became quiet for a while. They haven't been to a mass since his father died. Nobody said anything until Eddy finally spoke up. "Ma, do you really think it's a good idea?"
"Yes I do and we could all use a visit to God. It’s been too long,” she replied sternly.
"No way!" Frankie snapped, his last piece of bread all forgotten. "You can't be serious, I'm not going!"
"You are going!" Tia replied with the dangerous glare Frankie was quickly growing accustomed to.
Greg groaned. He didn't want to go to church, he had stuff to do today. But whatever Tia wants, they would be doing. His dad always listened to that woman, and it was annoying. He wanted to complain, except that brat Frankie beat him to it.
"But I haven't even seen the neighborhood. I wanted to explore at least a little." Frankie whined.
"You can do that after church." Tia insisted.
"I can also show him around before church." Greg quickly said. "Some places at least. Like the school." He wasn't interested at all in showing Frankie the neighborhood but he had places to be and he could easily ditch Frankie somewhere. He hoped by using the school as an example he could convince Tia this was a good idea.
Tia sighed but didn't know any reason to keep the boys locked inside before church, except that she didn't really trust Frankie to behave himself.
However, maybe with the thorough punishment he had gotten yesterday, and the fact that Gregory would be going with him, it would be alright.
Of course, the boys knew their secret plans were far less innocent than their public ones.
Tia, being completely blindsided and definitely going against her better judgment, reluctantly allowed the boys to leave before church. “But if I catch you doing something naughty, there will be no more exploring. And anyway, you aren’t going anywhere without a good meal. Eat.”
The boys nearly choked on their food as they tried filling their mouths as quickly as they could, but Tia was not having it.
Tia scolded them. “You two. Stop eating like pigs or you will choke on something.”
Tia gives a playful side eye at Stan, who had been glancing out the window at the clouds. It was likely to rain that day, or seemed like it, and he wasn’t so sure if the boys should be going out at all, at least not without a jacket of some sort.
“Oh, sorry,” Stan managed, joining everyone at the table. “It looks like it’s about to rain. I think it would be a good idea for you two to slip on some warmer clothes before you go out.”
They grumbled yet agreed, not wanting any more fighting like they had the day before.
The meal was pleasant and mostly quiet, with Stan rambling softly about something he had read in the newspaper. Nothing exciting enough for the boys to be paying attention to it, or even for Eddy to be. Only people his age seemed to care about the newspaper because Tia was so focused on what the old man was saying. Well, old as in, like, fifties.
After eating, the boys needed to wash the dishes. Which in Frankie’s mind was stupid, except Frankie didn't want Tia to change her own mind about letting them out of her sight—so—he did as he was told.
Greg also had the same idea so they washed as quickly as they could, and in no time they were ready to go. Eager beavers. Tia couldn't find a worthy excuse to keep the boys home, so hesitantly she let them go out.
The moment the door closed behind him, Franky gave a small cheer. He wanted to ditch Greg right away but he knew that would give them away too fast, and he knew the adults were already keeping a close eye.
Frankie didn't know what Greg was planning, or why he wanted to get out as much as he did, but he didn't care. This was serving his own purpose very well. He couldn’t care less about the other teen. Greg was simply a convenient cover story for Frankie’s undercover plan.
Together they walked to the end of the street, and quickly turned around the corner.
Greg let out a relieved sigh; they were clear. He grinned and turned towards Frankie, only to notice the boy was already walking away.
“Hey!” Greg shouted. “Where do you think you're going?”
He wasn't even planning on hanging around Frankie but Frankie ditching him right away was just rude and it rubbed him the wrong way.
He also knew his dad and Tia would think he was responsible for the other teen and if Greg hadn't had his own plans, he would have chased after Frankie. Now it was just easier to just let him go and hope for the best, even though it was annoying him.
It annoyed him so badly though that he debated throwing something after the other boy. Too bad Frankie was a quick walker. Not to mention what Tia and his dad would think if he did that and actually hit the boy. He’d be in massive trouble. Still, the strong urge was there. He really started to dislike Frankie. That boy was such an asshole.
Frankie didn't care about being rude as he gave Greg the finger, not looking back. Greg wasn't his problem! He had a whole list of things to do, things like getting back to the Bronx. His real home, with his real family.