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Well fuck.
Shawn gave an experimental tug on his jeans. Nope. Definitely stuck. Like stuck stuck. Like Winnie the Pooh stuck in a hole trying to get some honey stuck.
That was actually a fairly good euphemism for Shawn’s own reason to be dangling out a window.
When Shelby Haulder had come by his locker this morning and casually mentioned that her parents were gonna be out of town all night, with a little wink wink nudge nudge, Shawn saw a possibility on the horizon of some proverbial honey. He’d road through the whole rest of the school day on the high of anticipating tonight. He was gonna put on his fanciest—five dollarist—cologne and maybe snag some of that mousse Jon was always putting in his hair. He was gonna take Shelby to grab a burger, then take them back to her place and they could just see where the night went from there.
He’d gone ahead and told Jon all about it, while trying to decide if he needed to start shaving yet (he had notice a single hair on his chin the other day, so clearly big things were on the horizon there). Shawn was really just being courteous; letting Jon know not to wait up like he sometimes was prone to. It was a politeness he regretted.
Because then the weirdest thing had happened.
Jon had laughed at him. Like full on doubled-over-can’t-catch-a-breath laughing. And, sure, Shawn’s a funny guy if he does say so himself. But he couldn’t quite figure out where the joke was here. He’d asked as much and Jon had gotten this weird, disbelieving look on his face.
“You can’t possibly be serious, Shawn? You are joking right?”
Shawn had gone on ahead and let him know that of course he was serious. If there was one thing he never joked about, it was a hot date with an empty house.
Jon hadn’t liked that answer so much.
“Shawn, do you really, genuinely think I’m gonna let you spend the whole night at a girl’s house? When her parents aren’t there? And I’m fairly certain they have no clue that you’re there?” Jon’s hands had gone to his hips, a pose that he’d been taking a lot lately since Shawn moved in. With each passing day and each passing hands-on-hips-lecture, the pose was starting to look more and more natural. Shawn didn’t think that boded very well for him.
“I mean… Yeah Jon that was exactly what I was thinking?” Shawn gestured at himself, dressed in fresh clothes and smelling like the cologne section of a Macy’s, clearly ready for a night out. “Her parents aren’t gonna find out about it, they’re gone all weekend.”
Jon waved his hand in the air, in a “right here” gesture. “Uh hello, parent standing here? I’m pretty sure I’d be obligated to tell them, it’s probably a rule in some sort of adult handbook somewhere.” Shawn opened his mouth to protest basically every word of that sentence, but Jon cut him off. “Besides, I don’t care if they never find out. I’m finding out, and I don’t like it.”
“You don’t like it? What’s not to like?! The part where I have a great night? Or the part where you get a night with the apartment all to yourself?”
“The part where my fourteen year old is spending the night home alone with a girl.”
“But that’s the best part!”
Listen. Shawn hadn’t exactly been expecting that he’d get a slap on the back and an ‘atta boy’ from Jon for the possibility of getting laid tonight. He’d thought maybe Jon would give him some sorta lecture about safe sex or respecting a woman or something. But not being allowed to go? That had literally never crossed his mind.
Sure, Jon had some rules. Shawn had to tell him where he was going. He had to go to school everyday. He wasn’t supposed to put the empty milk carton back in the fridge, blah blah blah. But this wasn’t the Matthews’ house. At the end of the day, he and Jon were buddies. They gave each other space, and Jon more or less stayed out of Shawn’s business and off his case.
So what gives?
“You’re not being serious, right? You’re joking with me?” Jon had started walking away from the bathroom doorway, back to the kitchen, Shawn hot on his heels with panic starting to make his voice shrill. This was not happening. Jon was not really about to blow this for him.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Jon gestured to his unsmiling expression before going back to doing the dishes (and oh shit, that was something Shawn was supposed to have done earlier—was this all just revenge for not washing a few pots?!). Admittedly, Jon looked pretty serious. But that didn’t mean much! Jon was often a deadpan person, he could crack a sarcastic little joke without his mouth so much as twitching. This was just one of those times, right?
Shawn slapped his hands down on the kitchen island, drawing Jon’s attention back to him. “Jon, I need you to be one-hundred-percent abso-fucking-lutely real with me right now. Are you really gonna be uncool about this?”
Jon rested his elbows on the counter, leaning across towards Shawn. “I am being one-hundred-percent dead serious when I say you’re not going to that girl’s house tonight. It’s a big fat N-O, end of discussion, not gonna happen.”
“No!”
“Exactly, no.”
“No Jon, I mean… No you can’t be really doing this to me. Shelby is expecting me to come over in like twenty minutes and this is gonna be the date of all dates—I’ve already bragged to Corey all about it! Don’t do this to me, man.” Shawn wasn’t above begging. He’d get down on his knees and clasp his hands and say a dozen Hail Marys if he thought it would sway Jon right now.
Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was getting a headache. Good, a migraine would serve him right for ruining Shawn’s night.
“Is this revenge for the dishes?” At Jon’s confused look, Shawn gestured grandly towards the stack of plates Jon had given up washing.
Jon rolled his eyes. “This is not about the dishes.”
“Is it because I scratched your bike? Because I’m pretty sure that’ll buff right out.”
“You scratched my bike?”
“Nevermind.” Shawn said quickly. “If this isn’t because you’re mad at me, then what gives?”
Jon threw his hands in the air, looking up at the ceiling like he was expecting Jesus himself to come give him some strength. “For the love of— Shawn I don’t know how to make it more clear here. You’re fourteen. You’re too young to be doing whatever the hell it is you had in mind in an empty house all night long. You’re too young to be staying out all night under any circumstance, let alone for this.” He leaned back against the counter, fixing Shawn with a look he must’ve learned from Mr. Matthews. Or maybe Feeny. “I’m done arguing about this. You’re not going to her place tonight. You can still go out for dinner and hang out, but I don’t want your butt anywhere near her house. And I want you home by ten.” Oh now he had a freaking curfew?! Really, this was too much. This was out of control. Jon had gone completely mad with power. Next thing you know, he’s gonna be thinking Shawn should have a bedtime and start eating vegetables. And that’ll happen over Shawn’s cold dead, vegetable-less body.
Shawn tried to get Jon to see reason. He gave it nearly the full twenty minutes until he was supposed to meet Shelby, really putting his all into this argument. He should probably join debate team at this point, honestly. But Jon wouldn’t budge. Finally, Shawn had to admit defeat to make it on time to meet Shelby.
He may have given Jon the temporary win, and sure, he was a good egg and came home promptly at ten. But this was so not over.
That was how, at the ripe time of ten o’nine pm, Shawn wound up dangling out his bedroom window.
Shawn yanked again, but that only seemed to make it worse. His belt loop was snagged on a loose nail jutting out of the window sill. Just perfect. Shawn had climbed out of this window successfully no less than a dozen times in the couple of months he’d lived here. And yet now, right now when he needed to be free the most, now that nail decides to rear its head. Or. Bottom maybe? He wasn’t so sure about nail anatomy. Honestly, it wasn’t enough that Jon had to ruin his night by making him resort to sneaking out. He also had to go and have a faulty window with hazardous nails. Shawn could probably sue him for this. Surely a boy like him shouldn’t be expected to live in an environment like this, with curfews and loose nails designed to prevent escape.
“Shawn?” Aaaand speak of the slumlord now.
“Yes?” Shawn thought he sounded very calm cool and collected given his position. It was hard to give off everything-is-fine-here vibes while your top half is dangling out onto the fire escape and your feet are stuck inside, not quite reaching the floor anymore.
Shawn felt a hand touch his back, he turned his neck and saw Jon’s confused expression through the window. “What’s happening here?”
“Oh you know me, I’m always trying to be one with nature. Just tryin’ to see the stars.”
Jon started fiddling with his jeans, tugging on his stuck belt loop. “You’re caught on a nail.”
“Wow, you don’t say?”
If Jon caught his sarcasm, he ignored it.
“It’s not cutting you or anything, right?”
“No just hooked on my pants I think.” Shawn squirmed a little to be sure, but nothing was digging into his skin. After a few long seconds he added, “Uh Jon? You gonna help me get loose here?”
“Oh yeah, sure, of course.” There was something a little less than reassuring in Jon’s voice, Shawn just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “In a minute.” And there it was. Ominous. Like a monster in a monster movie. Like Shawn was the dumb sorority girl about to run into the murderer’s murderous basement but he couldn’t stop himself because he was doomed by the damn narrative. And by a loose nail on a windowsill.
“What, uh, what’re you waiting for? If you need a formal invite to help me shimmy outta these jeans, consider this it.”
Instead of helping, Jon plopped his ass right down to sit on the windowsill beside Shawn. Great, go ahead and get comfy buddy. Not like Shawn was in a rush or anything. “I think I’d like us to have a little chat before any shimmying happens.”
Now? Right now? Jon wanted to have a heart to heart while Shawn’s toes were currently straining to touch the floor? Sure, why the hell not. “And it can’t wait until we’re both fully indoors?”
Jon chuckled, and Shawn was oh so glad he could find some humor in this situation. At least one of them was enjoying this. “No little man, I don’t think it can.” Then Jon gave a slightly too firm pat to Shawn’s ass in a way that could truly only be described as a bad omen. Shawn had been paddled in school enough times to have a fair guess of what it was an omen of.
“Jon?” If his voice was squeaky that was just because he currently had the edge of the window digging into his stomach. “You know it’s probably not good for my head to be dangling down like this. Probably gonna have all the blood rush to it and it’ll explode or something. So maybe you should help me in now.”
“Oh you wanna come in? Here I thought the whole point of this little adventure was to get out.” The second pat definitely qualified as a full fledged actual honest to fuckin’ god smack. “I’m thinking some extra blood getting to your brain may be a good thing this evening, Hunter. Seems like it could probably use it if you thought this stunt was a stellar move.”
Indignation flared hot. “Hey, it’s not like you left me a ton of options here! What was I supposed to do? Not go to Shelby’s?”
Shawn couldn’t see him so well, but he swore he felt Jon roll his eyes. “Are you seriously asking if you should’ve done the exact thing I told you to? Yeah, Hunter, you were supposed to. Not. Go.”
“That might just be the most insane suggestion you’ve ever had. It’s Shelby Haulder home alone all weekend, Jon. You gotta see where I’m coming from here.”
“Ahh.” Another smackpat. “Okay, I get it, that’s where we’re missing each other.” A fourth, and damn were those getting increasingly harder or was Shawn’s ass just starting to have that pins and needles feeling from being stuck in this position so long? “See Hunter, I wasn’t suggesting anything. I was telling you, my damn kid, what he was and wasn’t gonna do tonight. I know you’re not super familiar with doing what you’re told, so let me go ahead and make myself extra clear.”
Now that, that, was undoubtedly a fucking spanking. Because Jon brought his hand down so sharp (and then he. kept. doing. it!), and it made such a loud sound, that Shawn was worried they were gonna get a noise complaint from the neighbors. Wouldn’t that be a fun 911 call to hear, oh hey officer, I can see this kid dangling out his bedroom window and it kinda seems like someone’s simultaneously coincidentally decided to play the drums at midnight, do you think you could ask them to keep it down?
“Fuck, Jon!” This was actually hurting! Shawn gave his legs an experimental kick, but it did no good. He couldn’t get the leverage needed to squirm away or do anything substantial to protect his ass. His hands were stuck outside with the top half of his body, his poor ass abandoned to its own devices back there.
“Language, Hunter.”
“Oh do not get all high and mighty about my cursing while you’re literally whacking my ass! If anytime has ever called for a ‘fuck’ it’s right fucking now.” Shawn kicked again, hoping he’d somehow catch Jon across his presumably smug face with a sneaker. No luck, just the useless wall getting the brunt of his Nikes.
“Fair enough.” But clearly it wasn’t fair enough because Jon’s hand felt even harder than before.
For fuck’s sake. The next time Shawn climbs out a window, he’s going legs first, not head. Just try to see someone spank him when they’ve got nothing to reach.
God this was actually starting to hurt. Like. Really hurt. Like this isn’t funny anymore time to quit it hurt. “Jon? Johnny? Mr. Turner… your honor?” Shawn paused, giving Jon an opportunity to quit smacking his ass. He did not take the opportunity. “Uh, y’know,” he winced, trying to keep his voice steady, “whatever lesson you’re imparting here, I’ve definitely got it. Learned it real well. So you can probably stop now, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Oh, have you? What lesson would that be then?” Damn if this didn’t feel like a pop quiz. And if there was one thing Jon Turner should know after this long being his teacher, it was that Shawn Hunter didn’t do so hot with pop quizzes.
Shawn racked his brain frantically, Jon’s heavy hand resting unpleasantly on his ass, both a reprieve from the smacking and a warning that it could start again. What lesson had he learned? Had he learned anything? Why were they here again?
Oh right. Shelby. Apparently he’d taken too long to remember because Jon swatted him again. “No! I learned not to see Shelby!”
Shawn glanced over his shoulder to gauge Jon’s reaction. The eye roll he got wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it also wasn’t the worst thing he could’ve seen. At least Jon didn’t look pissed, more like fondly exasperated than anything. That’s good. Anything indicating that Jon remembered he liked Shawn too much to kill him via ass whooping was a good sign.
“You know that’s not the lesson here, Shawn.”
“I do?”
“You better.” Jon sounded less amused.
“I do!” Shawn nodded his head frantically, although he wasn’t sure Jon could see it. “I do know. No that’s not the lesson here, of course not.” Of course not. Because the lesson was…? Oh, right! “Sneaking out! I was sneaking out and that was bad.”
“Yes, sneaking out of the house after I told you not to go somewhere is not great, Shawn.” Jon’s tone teetered on condescending, but Shawn was just relieved he wasn’t spanking him anymore.
Shawn nodded solemnly, hoping Jon could feel just how contrite his facial expression was right now. “That’s right, I gotta do what you say because you’re the big boss. The head honcho. The man behind the curtain. I remember that so well now, learned this lesson real good. So now that we’ve got that all cleared up and we’re all on the same page, maybe you could help me out here and pull me in? Or push me fully out, dealer’s choice.”
“Seeing as I’m trying desperately to keep you in, Hunter, I think this dealer’s gonna choose to pull you back inside.”
“Good plan. Feel free to go ahead and set that plan in motion at anytime.”
Regretfully, Jon did not hop to their good plan. “I’ll get right on that, Hunter. As soon as we’re done here.” Done here? How were they not already done here?
Shawn felt another hard smack on the seat of his jeans. Oh. That was how.
After another dozen (fourteen actually, but who was counting?) swats, Jon finally stopped. Shawn hoped he had pulled a muscle in his stupid shoulder or something. Or suddenly given himself arthritis in his whacking hand.
Jon reached around and fiddled with Shawn’s jeans, causing him to freeze momentarily. For a horrifying second, Shawn thought for sure that his jeans were coming down to get a full on bare-assed-whooping. But no, thank god, Jon was fulfilling his end of the plan and wiggling Shawn free of the nail. Hands around his waist lifted him off the windowsill and pulled him back indoors. He never thought he’d be so happy to be back inside his bedroom. That fire escape was officially dead to him. Or at least dead until it was needed to sneak out somewhere fun again. Then it would be resurrected and cherished once more.
Although he kinda had a gut feeling Jon was gonna be fully nailing shut his bedroom window after tonight. Just a hunch.
“You alright?”
Jon turned him this way and that, prodding at his stomach like he was in some medical movie checking for internal bleeding or something. He probably wasn’t asking if Shawn’s ass was alright, but Shawn let him know anyway. “My ass feels like a bunch of fire ants just made a lunch out of it. There’s literally ants in my pants right now, thanks to you.”
“Figuratively, not literally.”
“What’re you, my English teacher?”
Jon cuffed him lightly on the side of the head, a normal occurrence, then wrapped an arm around Shawn’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. A less normal occurrence.
“Oh. Okay.” Shawn’s voice was muffled by Jon’s shoulder.
They stood like that for a beat, and it felt nicer than Shawn would’ve expected. Eventually Jon pulled back. He cupped the back of Shawn’s head and forced eye contact between them. “If you could stay indoors until at least dawn, I’d really appreciate it, Hunter. I’d hate to have to barricade all the windows and doors.”
“Pretty sure that’d be a fire hazard. But point taken, I’m an indoorsy man at heart so I’ll be staying right here. Cross my heart and all that jazz.”
Jon surprised him again by pulling him into another, albeit briefer, hug. “Good kid.”
Shawn gave it a solid four seconds after Jon left his room before he began his search of pliers. He was never getting caught on that booby-trapping nail again.