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Tim Drake had made a poor decision, and now he was in big trouble.
He'd known he would get in trouble when he convinced his fellow Titans to sneak out of the house. Someone had been stalking them and Tim thought it was high time for them to do some hunting of their own. Breaking that rule would be enough to get a lecture from Kori and Victor. The senior Titans were responsible for keeping this new generation of sidekicks in line. But when they got back to the Tower and came face to face with the Justice League? Tim knew he was really in for it.
Cassie had done the hard part of telling the adults what they'd done. How they went looking for trouble and bit off way more than they could chew. What the current Robin had expected to be a four-on-one fight with some lone spy turned into a battle where his friends with powers got trounced by an Amazo robot, while he found out how hopelessly outmatched he was against Deathstroke. Tim didn't know Slade Wilson was even alive before that evening. Now he knew why Dick still had nightmares about the super soldier turned killer for hire.
But Tim would pick a dozen more fights with Deathstroke the Terminator before he volunteered for what he was facing now. His head hung low, his eyes trained on the iconic spiked black cape of his teacher as they walked down the halls of Titan Tower. Several times, he opened his mouth to apologize, only to lose his nerve before uttering a syllable.
He was going to get a spanking. They were going to fly back to Gotham, Bruce was going to drag him over to The Chair, put him over his knee, redden his bottom with his stern hand and then paddle him to tears. Tim knew the routine. Just like Dick and Jason before him, the new Robin received much of his education on Bruce's lap. Two weeks into his career as Robin, he'd gotten his butt warmed by Bruce's hand for disobeying a direct order. Ever since then, any rule breaking meant an appointment with what Bruce's gaggle of sidekicks referred to as "The Bat Paddle."
Tim would rather jump off a cliff than take the fourteen whacks of that blasted hunk of wood. It was late, and he was tired and sore. More than anything, he wanted to sleep. But there was no chance in hell of him getting any shuteye on what was an hour flight back to Gotham City. With consequences to come as soon as they were in the cave, he'd be biting his nails for the entire trip.
"Batman."
"I don't want to hear it, Robin."
It didn't matter if anyone still on the Island knew their identities - the months of training had instilled the habit of calling Bruce "Batman" whenever they were in uniform. He always reciprocated in kind. Frankly, it was nice not to hear his name when he was getting lectured; both of his parents were fond of reminding their fourteen year old son of his full name when he got in trouble at home. Being "Robin" meant that, at least for the time being, he belonged to Batman and had at least a modicum of respect left.
"But I..." Tim persisted as they walked out of the building and onto the dirt path that led to the landing pad. Hickory trees flanked both sides of the path.
"I mean it, Robin," Bruce interjected coldly. "I've already heard everything I need to hear about your choices today. Entertaining any argument that you don't deserve a good, hard spanking is not on my agenda."
"I wasn't going to argue!" Tim insisted, standing on his tiptoes and nearly leaping off the ground. "I know I'm getting my butt smacked and I know I deserve it and I'm sorry."
Bruce had allowed him to have his say, perhaps expecting him to dig himself into a deeper hole. It was a reasonable deduction; Tim had protested the necessity of every single punishment the Bat had dished out so far. But after hearing Tim's words, the man turned around and looked him in the eye for the first time since he'd told him to "come along."
"You're damn right you deserve it, and I'm glad to hear you're sorry." Batman pointed an accusing finger at him, making Tim weak in the knees. "Of all the mindless stunts you could have pulled..." He trailed off, seeming too frustrated for words. "Deathstroke isn't Mad Hatter, or Riddler or Penguin, Tim. He's a trained assassin and he's almost killed Dick on several occasions. Even I wouldn't go looking for him without careful planning."
"I didn't know it was him," Tim reminded him solemnly. He'd been foolish and rash, but he wasn't stupid enough to pick fights he couldn't win on purpose. "And I had a plan; I had an Amazon and a speedster and a Kryptonian backing me up."
"Not one of whom has any more combat experience than you!" Batman raised his voice, his fury plain as day. "You had a suspicion, but no clues or evidence. When you have no idea what is happening, that is not the time to run towards it. Not only did you risk your own life with your reckless choice, but any one of you could have been hurt. Or killed."
Tim fell to his knees. He knew that. Ever since they came face to face with the man hunting them, Tim had known that he'd made a bad call. When the Amazo robot showed up and started copying the powers of his friends, he knew for a fact that he'd endangered everybody. They were lucky to escape with their lives. And now he was having all of that thrown at him, and he could not bear to look at the man holding him accountable.
The next moment, Tim felt a gloved hand stroking his hair. A soft caress down his cheek was the precursor to his chin being lifted. Bruce had removed his cowl, allowing the boy to see the severity in his steel gray eyes. But there was also compassion, and warmth, and affection.
"Timothy Jackson Drake," Bruce nearly whispered, filling the teenager's stomach with butterflies the size of barn owls. He knelt down so they were at eye level. "This is not a game. It isn't kid's stuff. What we do is dangerous, and just because you're smart and capable and well trained doesn't mean you can handle everything by yourself. That's why Batman always needs a Robin, remember?"
Tim sniffled. Bruce had accepted him as the new Robin after the boy had deduced the identities of Batman and the previous Robin... the now deceased Jason Todd. Was it any wonder that Bruce was so hard on him now?
"If I lost you... I don’t know what I'd do, son. You have got to be more careful. If you don't know all the facts, don't rush in. Call me. You and I can handle most things, and what we can't, my friends can," Bruce explained to him. "You have to promise me that you won't act like this again. Otherwise, you'll be a full-time high school student instead of a part time crime fighter. Understand?"
Tim started sobbing. Bruce hadn't struck him one time, but he felt as bruised and battered as if he'd been paddled twice in a weekend. When the tears were too much, he removed his domino mask and rested his head against the signature insignia on Bruce's chest.
"Can you just spank me now?" he sputtered.
The laugh that came from Bruce took Tim by surprise. His brow furrowed, and he was about to pop off with some remark about how there wasn't anything funny about this situation. But Bruce placed a hushing finger on his mouth, and stroked his hair until he felt better.
"As opposed to later?" Bruce finally questioned.
"Yeah," Tim nodded, and wiped some of the tears from his eyes. "I don't want to dread it the whole time we're flying. If I'm gonna be squirming in my seat anyway, I'd rather have a sore bottom."
"Alright," Bruce acknowledged, standing up and taking Tim's hand in his. The boy squeezed tightly, and the man returned it in kind. "I suppose there's no reason to wait. You're safe here. I'll spank you, we'll fly home, and you can go straight to bed."
Tim felt a knot in his stomach. Bruce led them to the Batplane and opened the hatch on the pilot's side, unfolding it to reveal stairs. Once it was secured to the ground, he took a seat on the second step. Tim gulped.
"Young man." Bruce's voice lost all of its softness but none of its warmth. He unbuckled Tim's utility belt and unzipped the emerald trousers. "You're really in trouble tonight. Your behavior was reckless and irresponsible."
"Yes Sir," Tim acknowledged, steeling his nerves and shoving his pants down so that they rested just over his knees. He swore that this uniform was intentionally designed to be easy for Bruce to undo and spank him in. Maybe that was why Dick's Nightwing outfit didn't have separate pants.
"You put yourself and your friends in danger, without any knowledge of what that danger was." Bruce didn't waste any time guiding Tim over his lap then. His left arm easily wrapped around Tim's lithe torso and held him in place. He lowered the boy's shorts and began patting his bare bottom as he lectured. "That is not how someone who is supposed to be the field leader of the Titans should act. You could have gotten seriously hurt, so you will be seriously spanked instead."
The firm pats became a hard swat as soon as Bruce said the word "spanked." Tim gasped, and did so again when Bruce's hand slapped the other cheek in turn.
"Ow, ow! Ahh, ow!" Tim yelped as Batman spanked him in a steady rhythm. He could swear that Bruce was smacking harder than last time, perhaps to make up for the absence of his paddle. "Ouch! Ow! Bruce!"
"That's not how you address me when you're over my knee, little bird." Bruce's reprimand was to the point and greatly enhanced by a sharp blow to each thigh.
"Batman! Sir! Oww!" Tim shouted, not bothering to keep his voice down. As his teacher continued to mete out punishment, Tim grew squirmy and whiney. "Ah. Ouch!"
"That's better," Bruce allowed. "Once again; you made a foolish mistake, breaking rules for both the Titans and my rules for the Batfamily. So you deserve to have your naughty bottom bared and spanked."
"I know, I know!" Gasping and grunting, Tim tried to grab on the underside of the steps, but since that was the aerodynamic surface of the plane, it was difficult to get a firm grip. He settled for squeezing Bruce’s thigh. The alternative was to let his hands wander back to cover his bottom from the smacks, and thus earn even more of them. “Ow, oww! I said I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, Robin? Be specific.” Bruce’s pattern changed from a simple back and forth to delivering pairs of smacks to the same target. Tim hollered on these second swats, as they always stung more when his skin was freshly hot from the first. “Tell me exactly what you did to get yourself in this unfortunate position.”
“Ouch! Batman, you already know what I did to get in this position!” The burning pain became constant, lasting between the actual smacks and heating each cheek long enough for it to sting before Bruce returned to it. In spite of his best efforts, his legs started kicking up and down like soft, cherubic scissors.
“Don’t argue with me,” Bruce scolded, his tone growing heavy with sternness. He brought his hand down on those flailing thighs, causing Tim to nearly buck off his lap. As the boy tried to squirm free, Bruce’s arm constricted tighter to hold him still. “I can keep you here all night if that’s how long it takes you to obey.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary! Ow!” Tim grit his teeth and braced through several more spanks. Getting used to the rhythm prepared him for a more substantive answer. “I went after someone who I knew was tracking me and the Titans. Ouch, ow. I didn’t know who they were or what they were capable of. Ahh, and I convinced my friends to sneak out of Titans Tower with me. We all broke curfew and went somewhere without permission.”
Bruce’s sharp slaps were coming faster and harder, and Tim lost his ability to say anything other than exclamations of pain. His bottom was on fire, and the worst part was that he still felt just as guilty as he had before Bruce had pulled him over his lap. As Bruce’s sidekick, he was used to teaming up to take down gangs of armed mooks and costumed crime lords. He’d never been in a situation that was so dangerous to himself, much less his seemingly invincible teammates. There was no doubt in his mind that he deserved the punishment he was getting.
“And what are you going to do next time something like this comes up?” Bruce pushed.
“Oww, I’m going to gather more information. Be prepared,” Tim winced. His eyes were starting to water. “I’ll tell you, or Kori or Victor, instead of keeping it to myself. I... ow. I thought you didn’t trust us to take care of ourselves. I thought you were treating us like kids. But we are kids, and I should trust you more. Trying to prove we could handle ourselves just proved that we can’t.”
“Smart kid,” Bruce surmised. He abruptly stopped spanking, and took to rubbing Tim’s back to calm him down. “No, not yet. No matter how good all of you are, and you are all very good, you’re still inexperienced. The Justice League learned a lot from raising our first generation of Titans; Dick, Donna, Wally. We made a lot of mistakes with them; first we tried to control them too much, then we let them be too independent. You kids are younger than they were, and you’re in a more dangerous world. We try to protect you. I’m trying to protect you, specifically. But I can’t do that if you don’t follow the rules. And if you can’t follow rules, you can’t be a Titan. Or Robin. I won’t lose another one, even if that means you go back to a normal civilian life. Got it?”
Tim had started sobbing by the end of the lecture. He knew Bruce cared about them, but their bond was usually more of an unspoken one. Actions did their talking for them. But it seemed that this stunt that had put Tim in danger had rattled his mentor, enough for him to make sure that he knew the investment was personal.
“Yes Sir,” Tim sniffled. “I understand. I won’t disobey you again, I promise.”
“You probably will, actually,” Bruce acknowledged. “It’s normal for kids to rebel against authority figures. If you’d snuck out and broke your curfew to go see a movie or hang out at the mall, that’d be one thing. I still would have spanked you. But you cannot break my rules that are there to keep you safe. Keeping you safe is the most important job I have, Tim.”
Considering the man juggled being both Batman and the head of a multi-billion dollar company that employed almost ten percent of Gotham, that was a hell of a statement. It was the kind of thing his mom would say, and what his dad would never be eloquent enough to. Getting that kind of talk from Bruce? Yeah, he could understand why Dick and Barbara called him “Batdad” whenever he was pestering them.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I promise that I’ll do a better job keeping myself safe,” Tim amended, drying his tears. “And I’ll work at trusting that you have my best interests at heart and aren’t just making rules to keep me and my friends from having fun. Are we done?”
“Not quite.” Tim groaned as Bruce set him down in front of him, neatly between his legs. “If we were at home, I’d be paddling you as hard as I’ve ever paddled any of you kids. Since we’re out in the woods, we’re going to have to improvise.”
“But Bruce...” Tim whined, huffing as the man pulled his underwear back into place. Rather than pull his pants up, he lowered them down to just below his knees. “Batman!”
Bruce looked at him with unwavering determination. Tim knew the look. If he had any sympathy to give, he’d be waiting to give it until he’d administered the consequences he saw fit for the occasion.
“Step out of your shoes, and your pants, Tim,” he ordered gently.
”Dad.” Tim was pouting. He was giving Bruce his best puppy dog eyes and hoping the term of endearment would serve as a balm to his temper and disappointment. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel like he was lying when he said it.
“Now.” Bruce reiterated, popping Tim on the bottom. Finally, the boy started doing as he was told. As he disrobed, he watched Bruce reach into a pocket of his utility belt and pull out an impressive multitool, and extend a very sharp blade from it. “Do you know what a switch is, son?”
Tim gulped. Somehow hearing the equivalent phrase used on him was not comforting. He shook his head, having no clue what a switch was.
“It’s an old fashioned implement for discipline,” Bruce explained. “I remember one time when I was walking the grounds with my parents. I kept getting into mischief, getting my clothes filthy and my mother kept telling me off for it. I forgot my manners and stuck my tongue out at her, and my father cut off a branch from a willow tree, turned me over and gave me a licking I never forgot. So now, I’m going to do the same to you.”
Tim’s heart skipped a beat. He felt incredibly cold and clammy, except for the scorching embers on his bottom. This did not sound fun. He barely registered Bruce handing him the knife.
“Go to one of those hickory trees. Find a long, thin twig and cut it from the branch. But not too thin, or too long,” Bruce clarified, indicating with his hands what were ideal measurements for this doomsday weapon. “Cut off any leaves and nubs so that it’s smooth. When you bring it back to me, I’ll inspect it. If it’s to my satisfaction, I’ll switch you with it. If it doesn’t pass inspection, we’ll go back out, I’ll cut a switch myself, and use that instead. Are we clear?”
“Transparently, Sir,” Tim muttered.
Right now, Tim wished he was over Deathstroke's knee instead. It would be less humiliating than this. It was one thing to fetch the Bat Paddle, but to carve his own spanking implement to be used on his smoldering bottom? After he'd just called Bruce "Dad" and begged not to be spanked? It was mortifying. He hoped his fellow Titans were getting off lighter than he was.
It took Tim about ten minutes to carry out the assigned task. Once he'd smoothed the stick as much as he could, he gave it a once over, and then cracked it against his palm.
"Ouch! Yeah, that should do it."
Head hung low, the naughty teenager found his way back to the Batplane and presented his switch. Unable to look, he listened as Bruce gave a few assessing "hmms."
"Good boy, Timothy," Bruce said at last. "I'm proud of you for picking a switch that will do the job. Now get back over my knee."
"Yessir," Tim muttered, his stomach churning as he scrambled back into position. He didn't want to argue or fight. He just wanted to be punished and forgiven so he could have a clear conscience and get some overdue sleep.
His bottom was unceremoniously bared again, his underwear left banded at his knees. Tim had a bad feeling about having his thighs exposed, but before he could form any hypotheses, he was rudely interrupted by a searing strike from the branch.
"Oww! Batman!" The switch was so different from the paddle, which thudded against his cheeks and rocked his frame. This wood cut precisely into its target, leaving a fiery stripe of agony where it landed. When it licked him a second time above the first blow, Tim howled and squirmed. "No! No, I'm sorry, I mean it!"
Batman marked him a third time, this time below the first spot, almost at the bottom of his cheeks. Tim kicked furiously, dreading the idea of being switched any lower. And as soon as he stopped kicking, his premonition came true as a scarlet line was tattooed across both thighs.
"Ahhh, Dad. Stop. Please, I'm so sorry!" Tim beseeched. But all he got for his pleas was another sting, and another and another. Now Bruce was carefully aiming between each of the stripes, turning Tim's lower half into a canvas of longitudinal lines. The sore and sorry boy had never known such pain.
"I trust you'll remember this particular spanking for a long time, Timothy Drake," Bruce said, and Tim heard the stick fall to the ground. "I don't like switching you kids. But this time, it was merited. If you ever require a reminder of this lesson, you'll find a new switch to blister your sorry butt."
"Yes Sir," Tim sniffled. "I promise I'll behave. I'll be good. I'll be safe."
Tim whimpered as his shorts were pulled along his well-spanked thighs. But once they were back where they belonged, Bruce scooped him up and squeezed him. The hug was welcome, and brought a fresh cascade of tears from the Boy Wonder.
"I went ahead and put your things in the backseat. When you're ready, just climb on up into the co-pilot's seat and we'll go home."
Bruce continued to rub and pat his back, but didn’t shush his cries. Tim appreciated that, as there was no way he could control his weeping after that harrowing experience. He lingered on Bruce's lap for as long as he could, only considering the idea of leaving when his crying stopped. Instead, he hugged a little tighter now that his strength was back.
"I never tell you kids this sort of thing enough," Bruce said after clearing his throat. "But I'm proud of you. And I love you."
Tim wondered for a moment if he'd imagined such a thing. Batman saying that particular "l" word was not something that computed for him. But no, the words were just as real as that horrible stick, and as soothing as the switch had been merciless.
"Love you back."
Tim spent the first five or so minutes of the flight wiggling in his seat, unable to get comfortable with the switch marks biting at him whenever they made fresh contact with anything. But after he forced himself to be still, the embers died down a little. Within minutes of getting settled, he drifted off to sleep. He woke up only long enough to notice Bruce carrying him up the stairs of the Batcave, and was slumbering again by the time they were actually in the mansion.
He was home, safe and soundly spanked.