Chapter Text
Stephen buried his head in the pillow and squeezed Ralph tighter. He was never leaving this bed again. Nick could just bring him his meals here and they could sneak out in the small hours and drive home. The door opened and footsteps approached the bedroom. Stephen tensed. The gait was off. “Thought I ought to check on you,” Bert said softly from the doorway. “Nick’s back in the house, he doesn’t know I’m out here.” Stephen wondered if there was a way for a bed to turn into quicksand and suck him under. The bed dipped. “If I know my son, you’ve got a very sore bottom right now.”
Stephen burrowed farther into the pillow. Bert didn’t move. Stephen turned his head just enough to see the edge of Bert’s leg and hip where Nick’s dad was sat on the side of the bed. Bert cleared his throat and raised his arm. Stephen shifted so he could watch. Bert withdrew a folded piece of paper from inside his waistcoat. He opened it to reveal a yellowed old newspaper which he placed on the bed between them facing Stephen. It was the local county paper from sometime in the 1930s. The headline read in large letters Local Handheld Gone Missing Punished While Town Elders Look On. Underneath it was a black and white photo that took up the rest of the front page, showing a semi-circle of stern men and women, some with their arms crossed, all eyes on a young man bent over a blanket-covered trestle with his pants and trousers around his ankles, bottom a distinctly darker color than the rest of his exposed skin. Another man stood behind him in the act of bringing a large carpet slipper down onto the bent man’s backside, ferocious frown on his face. The handheld’s face was turned up to the camera, captured in a contorted, open-mouthed protest, eyes wide and glassy with tears.
Bert tapped the picture, “That’s my old Dad there on the left. The whole town was out all night and into the morning looking for that lad. I remember being roused when the local constabulary came knocking on the door to organize the search and then Ma shooed us back to bed because she said we’d just be in the way. They found him as I was heading out to school the next morning. Dad attended the spanking in the guild hall the next day. Came home saying it’d been hard but nothing more than he’d deserved.”
“So I’m lucky you aren’t dragging me over to the town square for the same?”
“This town hasn’t changed that much since I was a boy. We still look after our own. We still turn out in force when one of our lads has gone missing. There were folks as far away as the edge of the national park organizing to go out and look for you last night, Stephen.”
“You hardly know me.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re our Nick’s so your ours. That’s all anyone around here needs to know.”
“And that I’ve been spanked for putting you all through that.”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Stephen snorted. “I thought you deserved to know that you’d been missed.”
“What’d he get? The handheld?” Bert tapped the article. Stephen pushed up on his elbows so he could read.
The young Tom Cunningham had been missing for fourteen hours, or eight hundred and forty minutes before he was found. This number, while appropriate, was deemed too high by the assembled elders, especially as the spanking was to be administered on top of the spanking Cunningham had already received from his disciplinary guardian, local man Jack Tavish, the day before. A decision was taken to cut the count by three quarters for a total of one hundred and ten hard spanks. Cunningham apologized to those assembled individually and received due scolding from each. He was then bent over the spanking trestle and his bottom bared in full view of the assembled pillars of the community. Mr. Tavish wasted no time in applying the slipper to his wayward charge’s exposed seat with admirable strength. The well-deserved spanks were delivered in silence at a measured pace of about three seconds apart. The only sounds within the hall for eight minutes were the howls of Cunningham as he received his just desserts. When the spanking was concluded, Cunningham was left bare and bent over the trestle to compose himself. Once he was in a state to stand and face his elders and betters, Cunningham’s clothing was replaced and he was helped to his feet by his watchover Tavish. Tavish accompanied Cunningham with a hand on his shoulder while the handheld shook the hands of the assembled elders and thanked them for their care and attention to his wellbeing. The disciplinary proceedings were concluded with promises made by all to Tom Cunningham that he would be stood a pint down the pub as soon as he could sit to drink it.
Note from the Editor :
While Tom Cunningham caused our community no small amount of worry and work this past Wednesday, the editors of this paper believe that anyone who knows his watchover, Jack Tavish, was present at the spanking in the guild hall last night, or has read this article, will plainly see that Tom has paid a stiff price for his actions. It is our sincere opinion that Tom ought to now enjoy the full and unequivocal forgiveness of our community and that there ought to be no alteration in the affection and support we show him. We, the editors of this venerable paper, exhort the community to follow our example and embrace Tom Cunningham back into the fold with open arms.
Stephen dropped the paper back onto the bed and turned on his side to face Bert, curling around Ralph who remained snugged to his chest. “I didn’t keep count, but I’m willing to bet that Nick gave me at least that many with the slipper.” He sighed. A part of his brain was confused that he wasn’t blushing under Bert’s gaze. “Will they expect to hear about my punishment?”
Bert reached down and squeezed Stephen’s arm. “Naw, we’re all just glad you’re safe. Everyone knows you’ll’ve been given something and everyone around here knows Nick isn’t the type to go easy, especially with the way he was before we found you. If anyone does overstep, you let us know and we’ll run interference for you. Alright?”
“Sure,” Stephen muttered into Ralph’s side.
“I mean it, Stephen. Let us help.” Bert settled himself more fully onto the bed. Stephen pushed the article away from him in Bert’s direction and his watch-father took it and folded it back up and returned it to his waistcoat. “Nick hasn’t said but I’m guessing you’re not done?”
Stephen shook his head. “Another before bed and tomorrow.” Bert raised his eyebrows. “I risked my life. That’s at least two in Nick’s book.” Bert nodded and Stephen suppressed a sigh. No sympathy on that score coming his way then. Not that Stephen had thought Bert’d undermine his son’s authority by questioning Nick’s choice of punishment. “And I’m not allowed out of his sight for the week.” Nick was letting him off easy in the chores, lines and corner time departments, at least.
“Seems sensible. We’d have trouble letting you out of sight regardless.”
Stephen swallowed, “Did you want to watch, tonight?” He glanced up at Bert, “I know I worried you.”
Bert’s face straightened out of the relaxed, fond creases it had settled into. He held Stephen’s gaze steadily as he tilted his head slightly in contemplation and then slowly shook it. “It’d be . . . difficult for us, to see that and not . . . pull Nick off you, I suppose.”
Stephen blinked. The Cutters and their extended family were so whole-hearted in their support of Nick’s role in his life and accepting of Stephen himself as a handheld that it’d never occurred to him that they might have an issue with parts of how Nick and his life worked as a Match. “But you still think I deserve it?”
“Oh, aye. There’s a reason none of us have ever thought of applying to be a watchover, is all.” Bert’s face softened again and he stroked Stephen’s hair off his forehead as he added, “And we’ll still see you sent to bed with a sore bottom and song when you need it, lad.” He patted Stephen’s cheek as he sat back.
Stephen huffed at the warm tension between word and tone. “Thanks.” He dropped his eyes to the duvet. “And I’m sorry.”
“I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.”
Stephen shrugged self-consciously. “I am. Sorry I worried you. That I scared you.”
“I know. You’re alright. So long as you never do it again.”
Stephen hunched. His watch-father was so nice most of the time, it was easy to forget he had been the father of three strong-willed children. His tone of voice was reminding Stephen of that fact very nicely just now. He didn’t think it’d paid to disobey Bert Cutter as a child. Or Jenny either. “I’m not planning to.”
“Don’t plan. Don’t do it.”
“Yes, Bert.” Stephen shifted. He tossed back the covers and hissed his way out of bed. Bert moved back to give him room. Stephen set Ralph down, ran his hands over his face and cut his eyes sideways to his watch-father. He cleared his throat. Bert nodded at him. “Are the kids around?” They’d been on their way to school when Stephen had returned to the fold, throwing themselves at him to give enthusiastic “have a great day” hugs on their way out the door.
“There’s a extended day for a class trip for Sev and Dougal and the other three are staying in the afterschool program so they’ll all be back together later on. Just us old folks at the moment.” Bert looked Stephen up and down. “You can come back with me or not, you know that.”
Stephen smiled and stooped to put back on his jeans and shoes. He rose and pulled Bert into a hug. “Thanks for looking for me.” Bert patted him on the back hard. “I’m okay.” Bert nodded against his shoulder. Stephen let go when Bert did and collected Ralph from the bed. He wiped at his eyes as movement brought his blazing bum back to life and preceded the elder Cutter out the door. He had some other people to show he was alive and in one sore-bottomed piece. And some apologies to make and hugs to give.