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When Bobby left Hotshots, he was more than happy to leave the cast and crew behind without another glance. There are a few people on crew that he was friendly enough with, but nobody that he’d miss and he was sure they all felt the same way with him; he was just another revolving face in a sea of many faces. Honestly, the only person that was upset about the staffing changes was Brad Torrance, but Bobby had been hopeful that the attachment the actor had formed with him would be easily transferrable to Gerrard (or anyone else, Bobby wasn’t that picky). It was because of this that he was surprised when they got the 911 call to the set of the TV show and Brad glommed right back onto him.
Honestly, Bobby should have known that Brad wouldn’t take to Gerrard – who would? – but he had figured himself replaceable enough until Brad came walking over to him while he was busy talking to Gerrard and sent the older man scurrying away. Once he was gone, Brad truly looked at him, a smile taking over his face.
“Hollywood Bob!” Brad said happily.
“Hey,” Bobby said.
“It is so lovely to see you again, mate.”
Brad fully engulfed Bobby in a bear hug, squeezing tight around him and did not let go for far too long. When he finally did, he had made sure to keep an arm around Bobby’s neck, personal space meaning nothing to him.
“Can’t tell you how nice it is to finally have some real talent on set again, hmm?” Brad said.
Bobby let out an uncomfortable chuckle, shrugging to get Brad’s arm from around his neck and responded with a few pleasantries before he was able to slip away, fading into the fold of the real firefighters that were packing up and ready to go. With any luck, the next time he saw Brad Torrence, it would be on the TV screen.
A couple of days later, Brad Torrence was fully out of Bobby’s mind again as he listened to the kids (and Hen) in the station bicker about Buck’s relationship – or lack thereof – with Tommy. Truthfully, he was on Eddie’s side in that he didn’t want for Buck to be moping around waiting for a text that would never come or desperately clinging to something that wasn’t meant to be. He wanted Buck to be happy and Tommy had made him happy until he didn’t. And now they were all paying for it in lunches and dinners that Bobby had once taught him to make and desserts he hadn’t, as well as sad quips from the younger man who so badly wanted to text his ex.
“Why would he type, type, type, and then not send anything?” Buck asked.
“Maybe he just changed his mind?” Hen offered.
“You think I should call him right?” Buck asked.
“Definitely not,” Hen said.
“What if he’s in trouble and he needs my help?”
“That’s probably not it,” Eddie said.
“Yeah, I-I’m gonna call,” Buck said.
Bobby watched as Eddie moved lightning fast, plucking the phone out of Buck’s hands, claiming he couldn’t let him do that. Bobby watched in amusement as Eddie and Hen started playing keep away with the phone, tossing it between each other as Buck chased them around the table. Even when Buck asked if he could do something, he just turned to go back to the kitchen, figuring they needed to get this attitude out of their systems.
“Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Chief Simpson,” Bobby said. “Didn’t realize you were stopping by today.”
“I can see that,” Chief Simpson said. “Captain Nash, may I have a word please?”
“Yeah, of course.”
As he walked by Eddie, he smacked him on the bottom, trusting that the phone would get back to Buck before he came out of the office with the chief. If it wasn’t, then he’d just have to deal with that before he did whatever it was the chief wanted.
“Sorry to just drop in, Captain,” Simpson said. “But I felt I had to have this conversation with you in person.”
“It sounds like this is serious,” Bobby said.
“Uh, you could say that,” Simpson said. “I got a call from Hotshots production today. Everyone was thrilled with how you and your team handled the situation with the stuntman.”
“That’s good to hear,” Bobby said.
“They’re all big fans of yours. Especially the star of the show, Brad Torrance.” They kept walking together and somehow, Simpson was finding it easy not to crack with laughter. “A ‘proper bloke’ is how he described you on the phone.”
“Well, that’s high praise coming from Brad,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. “I thought you were here to tell me I was in trouble.”
“Well, you are in a manner of speaking. You see, you know who Mr. Torrence isn’t such a fan of? Vincent Gerrard.”
“So how’s that my problem?”
“Because Brad wants you back on Hotshots. He doesn’t like or trust Gerrard. Says it’s affecting his performance.”
“Chief,” Bobby said, already hearing a slight plea in his voice. “I’m a fire captain with the LAFD. Some TV star can’t just snap his fingers and change that. Can he?”
“The Hotshots franchise donates a tremendous amount to our budget,” Simpson said. “The point is, one way or another, we need to make them happy.”
“Chief, what exactly are you asking me to do here?”
“I want you to go back to that set and help Gerrard become a more likeable version of himself.”
“With all due respect,” Bobby said, “I’m a fire captain, not a miracle worker.”
“Then if you want to stay in this firehouse, you better start praying.”
Bobby let out an audible sigh as the Chief turned and walked out of the station. He had thought he was done with both Brad and Gerrard weeks ago and now he was being thrown back to the lion’s den. Not that he couldn’t handle himself with either man, but it was as inconvenient as it was annoying.
Talking with Gerrard was not on Bobby’s list of desirable activities. In fact, days he went without talking to the man who had harassed two of his dearest friends or made his kid feel uncomfortable were easily ten times better than the ones where he had to interact with him. He would do it today, if only because he did not want to be the one pulled to come back to consulting. The TV world was not one that Bobby was particularly fond of and did not want to be drawn back to if he could help it, so he would do whatever it took to keep himself from being forced back into it.
He strutted onto the set of Hotshots confidently, calling out hello’s and other pleasantries as he did, rolling his eyes when he heard Gerard calling out to the PA, Hailey, and steeled himself for what was to come next.
“Hey, kid, kid! This latte is luke. I don’t do luke lattes.”
“Vincent,” Bobby said.
“Nash,” Gerrard said, standing up. “How the hell’d you get a drive-on?”
Bobby glanced around and then said, “Maybe we should go for a walk.”
As they walked, Bobby filled Gerrard in on what Chief Simpson had advised him of, trying to do it gently so as not to hurt the other man. They'd left off on somewhat good terms the last time they spoke, and Bobby figured it was usually better to be on his good side.
“I can’t believe Brad, action-hero, went whining to the chief behind my back. He didn’t say a word about being unhappy.”
“Welcome to Hollywood,” Bobby said dryly.
“Well, how do I fix it?” Gerrard asked.
“There’s not an easy way for me to say this,” Bobby said. “You need to take a hard look at yourself in the mirror. When it comes to interpersonal dynamics, you can lean a little - ”
“Don’t soft-soap it, Nash. Spit it out!”
“You can be a dick.”
A dick? How can I be a dick?”
“You just finger-snapped that PA – who has a name by the way, it’s Hailey, not ‘kid,’” Bobby said. He could feel himself already getting worked up over this whole endeavor and took his own breath. “Just, I’m sorry, just smile a little bit more. Say please and thank you. Be polite.”
Gerrard sighed and turned to face him, but before he could say anything, Bobby decided it was best if he kept talking.
“Look, I know I’m the last person you want to hear from about…etiquette.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Gerrard said. “I want to know everything.”
“Is that sarcasm?” Bobby asked. “I can’t tell.”
“I’ll do anything you want. But you gotta do something for me.”
“What?”
“Take Brad to dinner. Convince him I’m not a bad guy and that I can change.”
“Vincent, the guy’s a TV star, I can’t just ask him out to dinner.”
Bobby didn’t want to ask him out to dinner. Honestly, he was hoping he could come here, talk to Gerrard, and get the hell out of there before Brad ever laid eyes on him again.
“Yes, you can. You want to know why? He loves you and he hates me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” Bobby said.
“Yes, he does. Just like everybody does when I have to walk in your footsteps,” Gerrard said. “From the 118 to the Hotshots set.”
“Uh, Vincent,” Bobby interrupted, nodding behind him.
“Oh,” Gerrard said, putting on a happy face again. “Qué pasa, numero uno?”
Bobby watched them with a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach as Brad got this weird little grin on his face and opened his arms wide. He pushed past Gerrard and glommed onto him instead, much to Bobby’s utter horror. Still, he returned the hug, because what else was he supposed to do?
“Bobby!” Brad said.
“Hey,” Bobby said.
“Twice in one week,” Brad said, pulling away, but keeping his hands on Bobby’s shoulders while Bobby tried to stop having physical contact with him. “What a blessing.”
“Yeah,” Bobby said.
“We’re ready for you, Brad,” one of the techs said.
“I appreciate you, Bobby,” Brad said.
“Hey, big rescue scene tonight, Brad!” Gerrard called after him. “You’re gonna crush! If you want to go over anything, I’m here.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Brad said, hardly even glancing over at him.
Gerrard turned back to look at Bobby and the look on his face was almost more concerning than the hug with Brad.
“Hey,” Bobby said. “Are you crying, or…why are you crying? Vincent!”
“For the first time in my life,” Gerrard said quietly, trying to bite back tears. “I have a job I really love. Please, don’t let them take it away. Bobby, please, tell me you’re gonna talk to him. I’m begging you!”
“I will talk to him,” Bobby said, if only because seeing Gerrard beg with tears in his eyes really was a disturbing sight. He’d have to remember to tell Hen and Chimney.
For the second time, Bobby was engulfed in a hug by a man he didn’t like and he hesitated, one arm out before bringing it in to pat Gerrard comfortingly on the shoulder. How had this turned into what his job was? He was pretty sure there was nothing in his contract about any of this, and yet it kept happening.
It wasn’t hard to get Brad to agree to go to dinner with him later that night. All Bobby had to do was utter the words ‘do you want to’ and Brad was agreeing before he even knew what the end of the sentence was. The lounge was dark, not packed, but not empty, and a waitress who was eager to serve because she was a fan of Brad’s.
“Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?”
“Well, it’s on me, so bombs away,” Brad said.
“No, it’s on the LAFD. Chief’s orders,” Bobby countered.
“Well, in that case, I’ll have your most expensive gin martini. Dry, stirred, with three pit-in olives,” Brad said.
“And I’ll have a club soda, please. Thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll put that in right away.”
“Hey, listen, Brad, I really appreciate you taking the time to sit down with me,” Bobby said.
“Are you mad? I’m always up for breaking bread with Hollywood Bob.” Bobby chuckled a little, the forced kind that comes out when something isn’t really funny. “So, what you want to talk about, huh? The show?”
“I do. Specifically the tech advisor, Vincent Gerrard.”
Brad groaned. “What do you want to talk about him for?”
Bobby was reminded a little of dealing with a tantrumming Buck, but he tried to push that thought away because Brad was an adult and, to be honest, Gerrard wasn’t most people’s favorite person to talk about.
“I know his bedside manner leaves a little something to be desired, but Gerrard has promised to work on it. He is eager to please.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve noticed. He just doesn’t get it,” Brad said.
“Get what?”
“I want to be recognized by the public as an authentic fire, captain, right? SO to do that, I need someone like you, a leader of men to guide me. Not a knob like Gerrard.”
“Look, Brad, I have a fire team at the 118 that depend on me,” Bobby said. “And I can’t abandon them. I won’t.”
“I see.”
The waitress came back then before anything else could be said and set their drinks down in front of them. A club soda for Bobby and Brad’s dry martini, and immediately, it was like something was switched inside of Brad because the happy calm he’d been talking with Bobby was no longer that.
“Tell me something, love,” Brad said.
“Yeah?”
“I know you’re only a waitress.”
“Hey,” Bobby said, knowing something was wrong.
“Perchance, do you recall how many olives I ordered?”
“Three?”
“So why are there four bobbing around in my glass?”
“I-I just thought, if you wanted three, you might like a bonus one.”
“If I wanted four, then I would’ve ordered four.”
“Brad, take it easy,” Bobby said.
“I can take it back.”
“No, it’s okay,” Bobby said. “We can just fish one out.”
“Yeah, fish it out,” Brad said. He leaned forward to spear one of the olives. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Man alive, are you bloody joking?”
“What is it?”
Brad sighed and turned the olive around, showing it to Bobby.
“This olive,” Brad said dramatically, “is pitted.”
“I thought that’s what you said,” the server said. “Three pitted olives.”
“No love, I said ‘three pit-in olives.’ I was very clear. Are you hard of hearing or are you just daft?”
“I-I can take it back to the bar and fix it.”
“I’ll do it,” Brad said, standing up from the table.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Torrance, I - ” the server said tearfully.
“It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for,” Bobby interjected.
“I just didn’t understand. Maybe it was the accent. It was my mistake!”
“I think we have well-established that,” Brad said. “Is it your first day on the job, love?”
“Look, I’m s -” the server said, choking up. She looked between him and Bobby.
“Hey, hey,” Bobby said, reaching out a comforting hand.
“I’m so sorry,” the server said again before running off in tears.
“Oh, yeah, there she goes,” Brad said. “She’s gonna bloody cry now. Boo-bloody-hoo.”
The entire restaurant had quieted and were turned to look at the scene Brad was causing. He was leaning against the bar like he hadn’t just made a poor young girl cry over a pitted olive in his drink. Bobby looked at him like this is the first time he had seen him – sure, Brad had tantrums around him before, but this was on an entirely different scale and Bobby was less than impressed with the attitude.
“Brad!” Bobby said sharply from the table.
“What?”
“That’s enough. You owe her an apology.”
“I owe her an apology?” Brad said.
“Yes, you do.”
Bobby stood up, speaking much more quietly than Brad now and closed the gap between them, trying to turn the public scene into something more private. Brad, however, had other ideas.
“What if I don’t feel like it?”
“If you don’t feel like it?” Bobby said. “You want to play an authentic fire captain? Well the only thing I can buy you as is an entitled man-child. Now go say you’re sorry.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m gonna kick your limey ass,” Bobby said firmly.
Brad stared him in the face, then quickly side-stepped Bobby and walked out of the restaurant. There would be no apology from Brad Torrance than night, but Bobby couldn’t very well go after and kick his ass, not when he saw all the phone’s pointed at him. He turned to follow in the direction that the server had gone, figuring he would apologize, pay for the drinks, and tip her damn well for what she had to endure. If he saw Brad Torrence again, Bobby was not going to be pleased.
Seeing Hen around Eddie and Buck could usually mean one of two things. Either she was disciplining the two of them for pulling some dumb stunt or she was encouraging them in something silly. From the way they were huddled around her and her phone and laughing, Bobby knew that it was the latter and he just rolled his eyes as they started teasing him about the video they were watching of him and Brad.
“Hey, cap,” Eddie said. “If the chief put you up to this, isn’t he gonna be pissed?”
“Oh, I’m expecting that phone call any minute,” Bobby said. “But if it’s between ticking off the chief or working with that immature, egomaniacal bully, I – he’s behind me isn’t he?”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie said and, as Bobby turned, he saw his phone come out of his pocket.
“Brad,” Bobby said.
“Hello, Bob,” Brad said, doing a little shimmy and dropping his two bags to the ground. “Hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“Not unless the tones go off.”
“Well, before they do, I wanted to say – that tirade that you unleashed, it was…so authentic. It was volcanic. Your words blasted the entitlement out of me like a truth enema, and I want to say thank you.”
He stepped closer, putting his hands on Bobby’s arms again and Bobby reached out, gently pushing him away as he said, “You’re welcome.”
“No one has been that blunt with me since I was a young boy working at the Millwall docks. Hollywood! It is so fake. There are so many sycophants, so when you find, as you Yanks would say, the real McCoy, you have to cling on to him. And cling onto you, I must.”
“Brad, I told you, I am back to being the captain of this firehouse. I’m not going back to your show,” Bobby said. He was going to stand firm. He could not do this with Brad again because otherwise he might actually pull him over his knee.
“No, no, I don’t want you to,” Brad said. “You should be in the rough and tumble. It’s where you belong. And it’s where I can really study you, in your natural habitat.”
Bobby was getting a bad feeling about this. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s all settled,” Brad said with a smile. “I talked to your chief and he agreed. I’m gonna shadow you! Twenty-four seven!”
“But don’t you have a TV show to go star in?” Hen asked.
“They put me in a coma,” Brad said happily. “So, until Captain Race Banner wakes up, I’m gonna be playing the role of Captain Bobby Nash’s understudy, full-time.”
The tones sounded before Bobby could say anything and he hoped this call would be quick and easy because he needed to have a chat with Chief Simpson before Braad got it in his head that he was actually doing this.
Brad was actually doing this. Chief Simpson and the LAFD was actually going to let him do this. Bobby sat back in his chair, then leaned forward and put his head in his hands miserably. As far as they were concerned, Brad was a part of the 118 team and should be treated to how Bobby ran the house. The only thing he didn’t get to do was participate in rescues and thank god for that. Having Brad around for every shift was going to grate on his nerves and Bobby knew there was only one thing that could help, though he had a feeling it wouldn’t be pleasant.
He stood up and walked to the door. If Brad was going to be part of the team, then he was going to be treated just like everyone else who worked underneath Bobby, no special treatment allowed. Brad was leaning against the kitchen counter, talking with Buck, Eddie, and Chimney and Bobby almost wanted to laugh at how all of his troublemakers were huddled together, but settled for rolling his eyes instead.
“Brad!” Bobby called. “Can you come here, please?”
The three boys of his straightened at his tone, giving each other the side eye and trying not to let on that they knew exactly was going to happen to Brad when that office door was closed again. Brad, however, appeared to have no idea as he pushed off the counter and bounded off to the office with a spring in his step and wide smile on his face. Before following Brad back into the office, he raised an eyebrow at Buck, Eddie, and Chimney, all of whom turned away from each other, whistling or calling out for someone who hadn’t been talking to them seconds before.
“Bob,” Brad said, grinning broadly at him. “What’re we going to do? Are you going to show me the inner workings of what it takes to be the finest fire captain?”
“I am going to discuss what it means to be a part of this team,” Bobby said. “Starting with respect.”
“Respect, yes. I can see that,” Brad nodded. “You need to command the team.”
“Yes,” Bobby said. “And I think that everyone on my team needs to be respectful to me, each other, themselves, and everyone they meet. Including servers at restaurants who add extra olives and mishear pit-in for pitted.”
Brad’s cocky smile fell.
“I told you,” Brad said. “The entitlement, it’s all gone now. I heard you loud and clear.”
“I’m not sure you did or that I can trust that you won’t act like that again. And if you’re on my team and you acted the way you did last night? I’m going to treat you just like any other person on my team. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Brad said. “I want the real, authentic experience of working in a firehouse.”
“Great, this is how it works in this firehouse,” Bobby said firmly. “Come over here.”
Brad walked over confidently, not at all expecting what was to come as Bobby sat in his desk chair and reached out, pulling him closer. He faltered a little, taking one step back as Brad reached to unbutton his jeans and pull them down.
“Bob, just what the bloody blazes do you think you’re doing?” Brad asked.
“I am going to show you what happens to naughty boys when they are not respectful,” Bobby said. “You signed up to be part of this team. You wanted to know what it was like to work as a fireman. You signed the contract and this is how I’d deal with that kind of behavior if anyone on my team pulled a stunt like you did last night.”
Bobby pulled him forward again, smacking his hands away as he tried to keep his pants up, and again when he tried to cover himself up once the pants and boxers were down around his knees. He rolled his eyes at the modesty and steered Brad down onto his knees and then over his lap, tipping him up to make his sit spots and undercurve easy to access.
“This was not in the show!” Brad said defensively.
“Your show is fictional,” Bobby said as he brought his hand down onto Brad’s ass with a loud smack. Brad cried out and kicked his legs, trying to squirm away and reach back to stop Bobby all at once. “Stop squirming. You earned a trip over my knee and you know it. And don’t reach your hands back, I don’t want to accidentally smack those. Trust me, that would hurt much more than this.”
Bobby shifted Brad again so he could pink the man’s legs with one of his, using his free hand to gently rub at his back. It was always hard for those who had never been spanked before and Bobby could just tell that Brad was one who’d never even grown up with so much of swat being directed his way, which is why he’d already made the decision only to use this hand this first time. Depending on how long Brad stuck around, there was plenty of time to use his paddle; if he stuck around long enough, Bobby might just get him his own paddle.
“You can’t just go around smacking people!”
“It’s in the contract you signed with the LAFD,” Bobby said. “Didn’t you read it?”
“My agent did!” Brad grunted as Bobby got the upper parts of his thighs.
Maybe his agent thought Brad could benefit from the spanking or maybe they hadn’t thought anyone would try doing that to Brad Torrance, TV star. If it was the latter, well, they hadn’t meant Bobby Nash who was well-versed in brat taming. He didn’t care that Brad was on TV and critically acclaimed. If he was a brat and rude, then Bobby was going to give him an attitude adjustment. There were no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.
He rained more smacks down, watching the color of Brad’s bottom and thighs shift carefully. He didn’t want to bruise him – at least, not this time. Brad kept squirming, trying to wiggle away as Bobby’s hand steadily made contact with his bottom. It was starting to feel like a life had been lit under his ass and Brad was slowly being lowered down toward the flames. Bobby was fast with his handwork too, so there was little respite between spanks.
“You can’t do this!” Brad said as he twisted again, trying to wrench himself off Bobby’s lap despite his legs being pinned and Bobby’s firm hand against the middle of his back to keep him in place. “This isn’t bloody right!”
“What’s not right is the way you have been acting,” Bobby lectured. “You have been entitled, you have been rude, and if you want to work under me, then you are damn well going to learn what happens when you act that way.”
Bobby kept at it, his hand a long ways from being tired and the sit spots of Brad’s ass were still too pale for his liking. After weeks of having to endure him on the clock, listening to him spout off obscenities to PA’s and unknowns on the phone, Bobby had gotten the inkling that his backside needed to be tanned and his behavior the night before had just cemented it. He wasn’t going to let Brad go with a half-assed smacking. No, Brad needed one that he was going to remember so he would learn there was a proper way to behave and it wasn’t what he had been doing for God knows how long.
“Your attitude on the set of Hotshots, the way you talk to people on the phone and just in public service is not okay,” Bobby said. “You are so incredibly rude and need to learn that the way you talk to people affects them and usually it’s not in a positive way.”
“I’m bloody nice to people!”
“Yeah? So making the waitress cry last night was a one-off?” Bobby said, smacking him hard against the thigh. “What about two months ago when you made Hailey cry? Or when you threw your script at Callum? Do any of these register to you?”
“I expect a certain level of service and assistance,” Brad said, yelping as Bobby landed another particularly painful blow.
“People are human and they have feelings and hurting those feelings is wrong,” Bobby said. “This is something that most people learn before kindergarten, but I suppose I have to teach it to you now at your big age.”
Brad squirmed uncomfortably as he was lectured. He didn’t liken himself a bully or mean, but Bobby was making it sound as though he were out murdering puppies or children for sport, which he was not and had no inclination to start, in case you were wondering. His backside was on fire and his mind was buzzing as the fire captain reamed into him even worse than he had the day before, which he hadn’t even known was possible. Last night had been something else – no one had talked to him like that in a good twenty years. What was happening now was entirely different and Brad didn’t want to stand for it but was powerless against the other man now.
“Stop it!” Brad said. “Stop doing this to me!”
“Your backside is barely even a blush pink,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. “You are going to learn how to be polite and respectful even if I have to pull you over my knee every day that you’re here.”
“Every day?!” Brad yelped. “Bob, Bobby, this just isn’t it, mate.”
“You’re lucky I’m not even using a paddle on you,” Bobby said, continuing a steady rhythm of smacking Brad’s bottom. “Or a spoon or a brush, or a dozen other implements I could use.”
“You do this on the regular?” Brad cried. “Just go around smacking other people’s bums, do you?”
“Only if they’ve been naughty and deserve it,” Bobby said. “I have to say yours is the naughtiest I’ve met in awhile though. Probably because no one has ever taken you to task like this before. And you have been begging for this since day one, buddy.”
The skin on Brad’s bottom was tender and about the shade of the rig when Brad finally gave out and started to cry. He’d held out far longer than Bobby had thought he would, but he kept going for a little while longer, until Brad’s body fell limp across his body, his words an unintelligible mess of sounds. Bobby lightly patted his bottom a few more times, feeling the heat radiating from his skin and started to rub his back gently, letting him cry it out for a few minutes before he helped ease him onto his feet again.
“Ah, ah, no,” Bobby admonished lightly when Brad went to fix his pants and underwear. “Naughty boys who need their bottoms smacked don’t get to pull their pants up. I don’t want you sneaking a rub of your bottom.”
Bobby knocked his hands away and righted his boxes up and around him, but had him step out of his pants. Brad was sniffling and trying hard not to look like he’d just had his backside lighted up and was failing miserably at doing so.
“I want you to stand in the corner now,” Bobby said, leading him to the time out corner he always kept empty save for a stool he kept for his team to sit on occasionally following a spanking. He didn’t think Brad was quite ready for that yet. “Hands on your head. No rubbing, I’ll be back.”
“I’m not a bloody toddler,” Brad snarked. He let out an indignant yelp as Bobby’s hand cracked against his behind once more.
“I have no problems pulling you back over my knee if I need to,” Bobby said firmly. “Stand in the corner, hands on your head. I’ll be right back.”
He waited until Brad had followed instructions before slipping from his office, closing the door with a soft click. Though everyone in the station was sure to know what had gone on in the office, he would still provide Brad with the same privacy he gave everyone after a spanking when they were made to stand in the time out corner. He didn’t need an audience for this.
Bobby went into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, a string cheese, and a beef stick for Brad to nibble on once he was out of the corner and did his rounds to check that everyone else was doing what they were supposed to. Chimney and Hen were on the couch, both buried in their phones probably texting Maddie and Karen, while Buck and Eddie were both on the floor, cuddling and watching a movie. Bobby smiled and rolled his eyes a little, retreating back into his office.
Brad was still in the corner when the door opened, his hands on his head and, if he had rubbed, Bobby wasn’t able to tell. He closed the door behind him and settled in on the couch, placing the water and snacks on the table beside him.
“Okay, Brad, come here please,” Bobby said.
The British man turned, his mouth downturned into a frown, his nose a brilliant shade of red to match his bottom and Bobby bit back a chuckle. He gently pulled him down onto his lap and reached for a tissue, holding it up to his nose and instructing him to blow, which he did, and then Bobby offered the water.
“You need to hydrate and get your energy back up,” Bobby said. “Take small sips and then I want you to eat the beef stick and cheese. We’ll cuddle while you finish your snack.”
“This was not in the show,” Brad said again. “Captain Race Banner would never.”
“Because that’s a TV show,” Bobby said. “This is real life and in real life the LAFD allows for corporal punishment for naughty subordinates.”
“Your whole team then,” Brad asked. “All of ‘em? You do this to them. Regularly?”
“Some more than others,” Bobby said, rubbing Brad’s back gently. “But we don’t discuss other’s getting spanked. That’s not nice and we shouldn’t speculate. Do you understand why I spanked you?”
“I was rude last night,” Brad said. “To the server.”
“You were more than just rude. You were awful to her. Over an olive, Brad.”
“I didn’t ask for four and I wanted pit-in.”
“She was trying to be nice by giving you more and your accent does make it sound like you asked for it to be pitted. It was an honest mistake that was easily rectifiable. That’s not the first time I’ve witnessed you act that way. It’s not even the second or third or fifth or tenth time. You have been begging for a spanking for a long time and you said that you were going to cling to me and that’s fine, but if you do that, then I’m going to treat you like anyone else.”
“I don’t like it.”
Bobby laughed. “No one ever does. It’s not pleasant, but it is effective. You want to continue shadowing me? Then you get a spanking any time you are disrespectful. Got it?”
“And if I say no?”
“Then your contract would be terminated and you wouldn’t be able to shadow me and you go back to Hotshots and Gerrard effective immediately.”
Brad pursed his lips, seemingly deep in concentration as he finished off the snack Bobby had grabbed for him. He seemed to be mulling it over and Bobby gave him the time to think, continuing to rub his back gently.
“I’m gonna show you, Bobby,” Brad said. “It’s a new leaf for Brad Torrance. You’ll see. I won’t ever take a turn over your knee with that iron hand of yours again.”
Bobby’s mouth twitched up at the corners, but he nodded seriously at the words. He’d heard that a hundred times before and it was always the ones who said it the most earnestly like Brad who ended up over his knee the most. And for someone like Brad who screamed maintenance spankings, Bobby was sure he’d be over his knee again before the week was up and it was already Thursday.