Hell No, I Won't Go

by Nelson

There was no way I was going - no way at all. I couldn't care less if Vic understood or not. Well, maybe I did care - a LITTLE - but not enough to do what he wanted.

"I'm not going," I told him definitively. And, I meant it. Seriously, meant it.

"Oh, yes you are, young man." I think he meant it, too, by the tone of his voice. "I'm not going to argue with you about it. If I have to drag you down there, you WILL go."

He had that look on his face. The one that sends me into a tailspin because I know - absolutely, without a doubt, KNOW - that he has his mind set on something. I hate that look. It usually means we disagree. I don't fare well in the argument when he has that look. There's a reason his name means "victorious".

I had to try anyway. "Don't even think about making me go, Vic. You can't. It isn't your right, and they're MY teeth!" I bared them at him and pointed at the front pearly whites for emphasis and to remind him of my teeth's whereabouts. In MY mouth.

I tried not to deflate when Vic grew about six inches. "Benjamin David," he said in that tone that rubs me much like the look, "when it comes to your health and well-being, it most certainly IS my right. You're going to the dentist, and that is final."

I opened my mouth to protest and he took the opportunity to interrupt. "FINAL!" he barked with a palm raised to me like a traffic cop might do. I hated it, but I could feel my face getting hot. Surely he could see it and would be on full-out alert.

He looked at me slowly - at about a snail's pace - his eyes daring me to argue further. Which I did. I'm not afraid of a dare. I didn't mean to screech but it still came out that way. "I hate it! I'm NOT going, I said." And, I meant it again. A lot.

Vic's hands seemed to hover just above his hips before settling on either side, reminding me of Marshall Matt Dillon getting his hands into position to pull his weapon if need be. Vic didn't have any sidearms at his waist but we were standing in the middle of the kitchen so I knew one of his personal favorites was nearby. I took the liberty of moving a pace or two away from the general locale of the paddle drawer, hoping to entice Vic away from the damn thing, too. I called to him with my eyes, not dumb enough to say it out loud, "Here boy, heeeeeere, boy." My man's dander was up, and I could nearly see the fur standing on end.

His voice took on a guttural growl when he spoke. "You will go," he said, and took a step toward me, following my lead. One step further from the paddle drawer. It dawned on me as his eyebrows joined together in a frown that he still had his hands. There should be a law requiring them to be registered as deadly weapons, especially when applied to a certain area.

Even knowing that fact, it wasn't enough to keep my temper in check. I almost heard the snapping sound of my temper flaring at high octane. I couldn't help it, and I rarely can. When it comes to going to the dentist, it doesn't take much. They are, after all, doctors. Doctors of the worst sort.

"I'm NOT going!" I stormed. I didn't consciously decide to stamp my foot; it did it of its own accord. Vic's reaction was immediate.

His lips almost disappeared entirely from him pursing them together so hard. He was on me like a fly on shit, so fast I barely had time to get my hand around back of me. It moved reflexively, fingers spread wide, to cover as much territory as possible, but Vic's hard hand found a spot I couldn't cover. Damn. I either need bigger hands or a smaller butt.

I hissed appropriately and twisted away from him. Man, that made me mad. How dare he?? "You can't swat me for not wanting to go to the dentist! It's MY mouth!" I reminded him.

"Yes," Vic said, not bothering to let go of my upper arm. His fingers dug unmercifully into the meat of my bicep keeping me precisely where I was - two inches from his face. He was so close to me, I could feel the whisper of his breath on my cheeks when he talked. "And, it was your mouth that earned you that swat. With a little help from that foot." He annoyingly tapped the toe of my sneaker with the toe of his wingtip. Tears suddenly pricked the back of my eyes and I hated myself for that. I felt not only mad at Vic, but mad at myself for making Vic mad at me, if that makes any sense at all.

Vic reached up and used his big forefinger to gently flick away one of the tears that managed to overflow my lower lids. It upset me even more, and a lump formed in my throat making it ache as I tried not to cry. Vic said, "Why are you fighting me so much about this, Benji?" His voice was decidedly softer and not quite as stern. I melted in spite of myself.

"I don't like it. They poke and dig and dig and poke…" I choked.

I didn't even realize my eyes were down until his hand cupped by chin and brought my face up to his. "Sweetie, it's not that bad. It's just a cleaning."

I could feel my face turning red again and I wrenched my chin free. "It's ALL bad! They'll find something. They always DO!"

"They do not," he said. He can be so annoying sometimes. And, he says *I* like to argue. SO not true. I'm only responding to him, and he should see that.

"They DO!" I protested. My cracking voice threatened to give way to more frustrated tears, and I swallowed hard trying to get the lump in my throat to move.

"Benji, sit down. I'm going to fix you a drink and we're going to talk this through. NOT yell, just talk."

I was ready to flatly refuse when His Majesty whipped out a chair and pressed hard enough on my shoulder that I was "helped" into the chair. He's so pushy. He left me to my fury as he dug through the ice cubes, fixing me a drink. I took the time to get myself under control, dragging the back of my hand across my eyes. He sat the glass down in front of me and pulled out a chair caddy-cornered from me. I stared hard at the glass, but didn't bother to pick it up. I wasn't in the mood and I didn't remember saying anything about being thirsty anyway. From somewhere unbeknownst to me, Vic produced a tissue and handed it to me. He must have slipped out of the kitchen when I was lost in my thoughts.

"All right. Get talking. What's the problem? We go through this each and every six months and I'm frankly tired of it," Vic said. HE'S tired of it?! HE is TIRED of it?? Was he fucking kidding me??

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, conveniently leaving out the "fuck" that was what I felt like saying. "I'm more tired of it than you are!"

"Then tell me why you don't like to go. I can't help you through this if I don't know what's wrong." God. Since we broke up and got back together, he talked me to fricking death. The turn in the conversation reminded me of the break-up and guilt washed over me for ever having left. He was really trying hard with the communication. Mostly just trying.

I reached out a hand and put it around the glass of soda Vic had fixed for me, trying to stall the conversation. The condensation had already started to form on the outside of the glass, and the cold quickly transferred to my hand. I put off the conversation as long as I could, but he eventually reached out and settled a hand on my forearm. No one likes to talk about their shortcomings, and I am no different. I struggled with the words, hoping if by chance I could help him understand, he'd leave me alone about it. "Vic, I just hate it." I begged him to understand with my eyes and just let it go. "I can't say exactly why, I wish I could."

"Did you have a bad experience or something?"

I cut a glance his way and said, "Is any trip to the dentist NOT a bad experience?"

"Benjamin." The one word sentence was not just meant to get my attention, it was meant to warn me to take this seriously as well. It was a verbal swat.

I said the only thing that was appropriate. "What?" Total innocence.

"Did you have a bad experience?" he asked me again.

"Nothing that should keep me up at night," I told him. I picked up the glass and tried to distract myself by taking a sip.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked me. He was leaning toward me with his forearm propped on the table, looking at me with so much concern, I thought about trying to go to the dentist without argument.

I quickly came to my senses. "I don't know, I told you. It's like asking me why I hate coconut. I just DO!" I said heatedly. "Weren't you LISTENING to me?"

"Watch it," he said, and the look was back. "You are dangerously close to be punished. You can be upset, but you'd better stop yelling at me." I couldn't look at him when he was disappointed in me. I just couldn't. I reached for the hurricane lamp closest to me and pulled it over to examine it closely. I barely got the globe off to straighten the candle when Vic took it out of my hand. "Do you understand me, Benjamin?"

He re-globed the lamp and slid it out of my reach then grabbed my chin making me look at him. His eyebrows crawled up high over his dark brown eyes while he waited for an answer. "But, you're the one upsetting me," I said in my own defense.

"I'm sorry going to the dentist upsets you, but you ARE going. It's important, and I'll take you myself if I have to."

Kapow! My temper snapped again when I realized I wasn't going to win. "I will NOT and you canNOT make me!" I jumped to my feet hard enough to knock over the kitchen chair. I turned to storm out of the room, but Vic caught up with me before I ever reached the door. I felt his pinchers on my arm again and he halted me.

"That is enough!" he bellowed. I think my hair blew back with the force of his words. "You, young man, are going to take a shower to cool off then you'll spend the evening writing for me. There will be NO TV, NO computer, NO phone, no nothing other than some quiet time between you, me, a tablet and a pen."

My mouth dropped open and I looked at him hard. "That's not fair!"

"You don't think so?" It was the way he said it that told me he could make it worse if I wanted. I had no intention of ending up in trouble when this whole conversation started, but then, I had no idea I had a dentist appointment scheduled for the next day.

Rather than admit it, I said, "No, it isn't fair. It's CSI tonight."

"Not for you, it isn't. Now get yourself upstairs and shower. When you're done, we'll discuss what you'll be writing for me."

"But, WHY?!" I argued.

Vic leaned back a bit and crossed his arms. "Well, if I say because you lost your temper, that would mean lines are not enough." He looked meaningfully toward the towel drawer that housed the paddle. I think I gulped.

"I was just talking loud. I didn't lose my temper," I said.

"Um, hmm," he said, apparently unconvinced. "Then I want you to go back to the table and pick up the chair that fell over when you spoke loudly. Then shower, meet me in the office before I decide it was your temper and not just a smart mouth."

Man, he can be aggravating. But, convincing. I looked warily at him as I went around him to the table, and I carefully placed the chair upright back where it belonged. Just the threat of a paddling helped get my temper in check and I slinked over to him, head down in a posture of contrition. "Please don't make me go tomorrow, Vic. I'm sorry I got upset."

He surprised me by pulling me to his chest and I laid my head on the shoulder of his crisp blue dress shirt. "Sweetheart, I know you hate it, but dental visits only get worse if you put them off. You have to go."

"I don't have to go," I said.

I heard his deep voice rumble beneath my ear, "Hey. That's enough. You are going tomorrow."

"I don't want to."

"I know you don't. I'll go with you if it will help. Do you want me to?"

"NO!" I pulled away from him and looked at him. "I'm not a baby. I just don't like it. My hands start sweating, my mouth gets dry. It just makes me nervous."

"Thirty minutes," he said reasonably. "That's all, then you can forget about it for another six months."

"Woohoo," I grumbled unenthusiastically. He had won. I knew I might as well give it up or I'd be losing with a sore butt instead of a cramping hand. I was surprised that wasn't the case as it was.

He grinned at me. "Shower, then lines. Move it."

"Wait, Vic," I said. I put my weight on my heels trying to keep him from plummeting me forward. "I'm sorry for storming out of the kitchen. Don't make me write lines. Please? I want to see CSI."

Vic twisted his wrist over to see his watch and said, "No. No CSI tonight even if you could finish with your lines in time, which you won't. Shower. Don't make me tell you again." He finished his sentence by turning me back to the door and softly swatting my seat. That was enough to get me moving.

I wasn't at all happy with the way the evening turned out. It was supposed to be a nice quiet night, curled up against my partner and watching a little TV. He waited until after the dishes were done to drop the dentist bomb on me, for which I was totally unprepared. I think the only reason he didn't spank me was because he tried to empathize. He knew how much I hated doctors.

I took my shower, staying as long as I possibly dared. I knew he hadn't had his shower yet, and I was tempted to drain the tank of hot water. But, I didn't really want to do that to him, as tempting as it was. I couldn't help but smile to myself when the bottle of shower gel sputtered the last of its remains into my hand. Vic would have to make do with shampoo or something. He had enough hair on his chest to need shampoo anyway, I convinced myself. I sat the empty container back on the shower rack and scrubbed down.

I finished up and came out of the bathroom still fairly wet with my towel draped loosely around my waist. Vic was laying out my PJs when I came into the bedroom.

"I was just starting to wonder if you had drowned," he said, straightening my clothes on the bed. I just glared pitifully at him. "Stop looking like a victim. I know you don't want to go, but there just isn't any way around the fact that you need to. You know you need to go."

"Do not."

"Do not, what?" he said, straightening up with his arms folded.

"Um…" I scrambled for what he was looking for. "Do not, sir?" I tried.

He shook his head and gave me an unVic-like eye roll. "No, brat. What don't you have to do?"

"Go to the dentist?" I tried again with my head slightly bent. I peered up at him hopefully through the wet strands of hair hanging in my eyes.

He walked over to me and took my moist hand and kissed it romantically. I almost melted, but then he ruined the moment. "Yes, you do have to go and we aren't arguing about it anymore." His other hand gripped the edge of the towel and pulled the corner loose that was holding it all together. I stood unashamedly naked in front of my lover. He took the towel and began to dry off the water beaded up on my body. "You never dry off good, do you?" he said with a smile. He knew me so well.

I didn't answer him, sure that if I did, he would miss the fact that I still was not happy with his decision about the lines or the trip to the dentist. He turned me around and moved the towel over my back, butt and thighs after he was satisfied I was sufficiently dry on the front side. He tugged me over to the bed and started helping me into my pajamas. After I stepped into my shorts and got them situated, he handed me my t-shirt and waited for me to pull that on. Then he plopped me down on the edge of the bed and stood close to me. I couldn't help myself and I leaned hard against his hip. He covered my head with the towel and started to briskly towel off my hair, and I closed my eyes enjoying his attention. He was truly wonderful when he wasn't being bossy. The towel disappeared from my head and Vic flung it over his shoulder, oblivious to the fact that it would surely get his shirt wet. I closed my eyes again when he fed his fingers through my damp hair, adjusting it off my forehead and out of my eyes.

"Okay," he said. He stepped back and snapped his fingers, holding a hand out toward me. "Time to go to the office. You owe me some lines."

"But, Vic," I protested, trying to sink into the mattress. I scooted back from the edge and bent my knees, wrapping my arms around them. I looked longingly toward the clock that was rapidly approaching 8:00. Vic read my thoughts.

"You aren't watching TV tonight. I'm not telling you again. I get tired of repeating myself, Benjamin," he said wearily. I wasn't trying to make him tired. "Come on," he said. Again, his fingers snapped against each other and pointed toward me.

I sighed as loud as I could and climbed off the bed. I went to him, but didn't offer my hand. He reached down and took it anyway, dragging me unwillingly toward the office on the second floor near our bedroom. He snapped the desk lamp on, pulled out the chair, and waved a hand in front of him inviting me to take a seat. I hesitated, then saw his dark eyes go black. I sat down. "Fine," I said. He hates when I say that.

"Benjamin." Warning verbal swat. "You are trying my patience tonight and you really don't want to do that. Grab the paper out of the top drawer, and get a pen while you're at it."

I held his gaze for a moment, not willing to admit defeat too quickly, before I pulled the paper out of the drawer and slapped it onto the desk. I reached for a pen and landed it equally as hard on top of the paper. "Keep it up," Vic said with warning in his voice. My eyes dropped under his disapproving stare. When he was satisfied that I showed the appropriate contrition, he quoted what he wanted me to write. "One hundred times. I will not disrespect my partner, speak inappropriately to him, or otherwise act out in anger."

"That's too long!" I snapped.

"It could be longer. Write it," he said. He waited the four hours or so it took me to take up the pen and press the tip to the paper. I started to write and could only remember the "I will not" part.

"What was it again?" I asked pitifully.

"Benjamin!" he barked.

"What?! I told you it was too long! I can't remember it all!" He took the paper and pen away from me and wrote it out himself. I thought he should write it 100 times so he would know how it felt. He smacked the pad and pen down about as sharply as I had and I blinked at it, then at him. "Sorry," I muttered.

"Get it done, please. I'm going to shower. NO television," he reminded me as he left the room. Like I could forget.

I glowered at the empty doorframe for an eternity and then looked longingly at the television sitting in the corner of the room. It was innocent enough to that point. I was bitter from having to miss CSI and hadn't even been given the option to tape it. Of course, I hadn't asked and hadn't been told I couldn't. I got up quietly and checked the shelf beside the TV for a "junk" tape as I call it. I found one quickly and slipped it into the VCR. I scurried back to the desk in a hurry, just in case Vic came back to check on me. There would be plenty of time to set the tape recorder once I heard the shower running.

I listened intently and kept another eye on the clock. I wished he would hurry up! I was missing the beginning, but better that than to miss the whole show. Finally, at about ten after, I heard the water start. I grabbed the remote and turned the television on, then flipped quickly through the channels to find CSI. I quickly programmed the VCR and it whirred to life at the precise moment I had set it to. I made sure the volume was way down and figured a few minutes wouldn't hurt anything since Vic was in the shower. I fully intended to turn it off as soon as the shower stopped. I just hoped Vic would take a long one.

I almost hit the ceiling I jumped so high when Vic's growl disrupted my show. "WHAT do you think you're doing?"

Holy cow. My heart was in my throat and trying to beat its way free. My mouth went dry as the Sahara and I could barely swallow. Vic stood in the doorway as naked as the day he was born, and water glistening over his body, the hair on his chest matted together from the wet shower. Somehow, I found my voice. "Vic, I um, thought you were…"

"In the shower," he finished for me sharply. "Yes, I can see that. Does 'no television' mean only when I'm not otherwise indisposed?" I tried not to laugh. He was being so stern, but naked, it just didn't have the same effect. Laughter threatened to bubble up in my throat until I almost choked on it. I managed a disguising cough and swallowed any lingering giggles. Vic having his hands on his hips helped - and so did his black eyes. It was just too hard to take the emperor seriously while he had no clothes. It was amazing at how funny it seemed to me at the time, although I knew I was in deep shit.

"No, sir," I answered, with more phony coughing. My nerves weren't helping things at all.

"Then, tell me why I'm looking at you now sitting here with the television on." I looked back at the set for an answer to his question, but it didn't offer one. A crime solving show with no answers. How ironic. I reached for the remote and turned the television off, conveniently leaving the VCR running. I couldn't look at him. He must have noticed. "I'm over here, Benjamin."

I managed to find enough spit to swallow and hesitantly looked up at him. "I… I know you are. You're wet."

"Don't change the subject!" he snapped. "You can turn the VCR off, too, and go to our room." Shit. He hadn't missed it after all. I fumbled once again with the remote and turned off the VCR. The green "on" light blinked off and the tape churning inside the little black box ground to a halt. "Hurry up, Benjamin." I looked toward the door and saw that he had it blocked, leaving me no choice but to have to get around him. I didn't like being but so close when he was angry with me.

I got by almost unscathed, but then I felt his hand plaster itself onto one butt cheek, stinging solidly through my pitifully thin pajama shorts. I hurried my pace, not anxious to get to our room, but wanting to get my butt out of his reach. I could hear his heavy steps behind me. He hated it when I stomped, but I swear, he walked with a stomp whenever he was mad whether he realized it or not. I don't think it's his fault; I think his feet get heavier when he gets mad.

"Get yourself in the corner," he demanded from behind me. I scuffled over in a hurry and buried myself into the sheetrock. I heard him leave the room again, still naked as a jaybird and wondered what was going on. My stomach tied itself into a knot as a thought crossed my mind. He might just be going for the paddle downstairs. I perked my ears for the sounds of him in the hallway and it sounded an awful lot like he went downstairs. I could hear him talking to Maggie as he went but I couldn't make out what he was saying. He wasn't gone long and soon I heard him walking down the hallway past our room. I risked a look over my shoulder when I finally heard his feet on the carpet behind me.

I tried to adopt a look of flat-out victimization as I peered at him over my shoulder. I was pleased to see he carried a bottle of shower gel, and not a paddle. Great. It was all my own fault he got out of the shower to begin with, since I left him with no shower gel. Ha ha. Am I ever the funny one? I castigated myself for being so stupid. We keep the spare toiletries in the guest bathroom and if I had replaced the old bottle, he would have never had a need to come out of the shower prematurely.

Vic pointed toward the corner, and said, "Turn around. I want you looking square at that corner until I tell you otherwise."

"I'm sorry, Vic. I was just going to tape it," I pleaded.

"Show the puppy dog eyes to the wall, Benjamin," he said without a heart.

I turned around obediently, but speaking of puppy dog eyes… "Where's Maggie?" I asked him nervously. I hadn't heard her around since Vic went downstairs. She didn't like it when I got in trouble.

His voice reached to me from the bathroom doorway. "Don't worry about it. She's fine."

"But, where is she?" I asked again, craving her company and maybe one day, protection.

"She's in the backyard. Now turn around, be quiet, and stay there until I get you," he said. Oh, he was going to "get" me all right. I heaved a sigh and resigned myself to stand there quietly while I waited for him, which seemed like hours.

I hugged myself with my arms folded over me as Vic went back to his shower. The sounds were muffled when he shut the door. Now, I really was wishing he would take a long time. Which he didn't. He was out in record time and I felt my insides twisting, knowing I was in big trouble. I turned around to look at him as he opened the bathroom door. This time, it was him in a towel.

"Turn around," he growled again. I shouldn't miss Maggie so much with him snarling and snapping. I pouted at him first, then I turned around quickly when his eyebrows went up in surprise at my stalling.

I could hear him behind me getting dressed. Even though he might reprimand me in the nude, apparently he wanted to be dressed to spank me. Thank God. That bought a bit more time. I heard the drawers opening and shutting, then Vic going back to the bathroom to straighten up behind himself. I was starting to shift in apprehension until I heard him come back. I went bone straight.

The mattress groaned with his weight and I waited for his call. It wasn't a long wait. "Benjamin. Come here to me." I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, gathering my strength to turn around and go to him. "Benjamin!" he said when I didn't respond fast enough.

I felt my eyes prick with tears and my face turn scarlet. I hated what was about to happen and knew there was no way out of it. I moved slowly toward him and he grabbed my wrist as soon as I was close enough. Instinctively, I pulled away, but he pulled harder. Before I knew it, I was on his knee feeling all of six.

"Benjamin, all I asked you to do was write for me. That's all. I was hoping to avoid this, but you had other plans, obviously," he said to me.

I felt a tear streak down my cheek and I brushed it away. "I only wanted to sit with you and watch CSI tonight. You had to ruin it with the dentist business."

"I had to remind you. Your appointment is tomorrow."

"But, you don't have to insist on me going," I said. My voice cracked and I flushed again.

"I do. Because you won't go if I don't, and you most certainly are going. I know you don't like it, but that's the way it is. If I can help in any way, you know I will."

"You can help by not making me go," I offered. It was reasonable.

"We aren't going to continue to argue about this," he said, pushing me from his lap. With practiced ease, he turned me over his knees and I glared at the carpet.

"But, Vic!" I said. I couldn't restrain a little yelp when I felt him pull my shorts down my thighs.

"You had lines to write. I said no television and that's what I meant," he said above me. I twisted over his lap, trying to look back at him.

"I KNOW! Please, Vic. Give me another chance!" I wrenched my neck around in time to see him raise his hand.

He whacked it down on my butt. Hard. He said as he brought it down again, "I don't think so. Now, you'll just have to do what I asked you with a sore behind." He kept right on spanking me, regardless of my blubbering protests. "Since you missed it the first time," he said while he pummeled my defenseless rear end, "I said no television. That means no television, no taping television shows, no sneaking TV when I'm in the shower."

Okay. So, maybe I missed how much he meant that before. Without a doubt, I got the message the second time. Vic was lighting my butt on fire with every smack. He held my hip with his left hand, and I could feel the weight of his forearm across my lower back; I couldn't gain an inch no matter how much I wiggled. My legs started kicking with almost each swat on their own as much as they could against my shorts. I screeched and cried, but it did no good. It never does. He's relentless when he has a point to make and he was making it well. He finally assumed I got it and quit after a lifetime. My butt was blazing and it felt bigger than its original size. I just lay there trying to get my breath and he stroked at my back. He was saying something, but I couldn't hear him over my own sobs.

He righted me and sat me back on his knee, careful of my sore behind. I grabbed at his neck and hung on tight. I could smell the new shower gel on his skin in between sobs, and kicked myself again for leaving the empty bottle for him. He hugged me and rocked gently side to side while he held me. I heard him say, "It's okay, Benji. You're okay." I doubted that seriously.

"No," I sniffed against his t-shirt. "I'm not." He had no idea.

"You will be," he said with a chuckle. He pulled me away from him, which took great effort since I had a death grip on his neck. I kept my head down as he peeled me away, and he lifted my face to him. "Are you ready to write for me?"

I shook my head no, but "yes" came out. "But, I just want to sit with you," I said, and he wiped my face.

"Let's get your face washed," he said. He pushed me off his lap a second time that evening, untangling my shorts from my ankles. I sucked in air when my reddened cheeks slid across his leg. Even over the soft cotton of his PJs, it hurt. I really didn't want to sit on the sparsely cushioned office chair and write.

I followed him mutely into the bathroom where he wet a washcloth and handed it to me to clear up the tears and snot. I handed it back to him when I was done and he took it, tossing it across the room into the hamper. He took me back to the bedroom and pulled the covers back. I looked at him questioningly. "Get in, Sweetheart." So, I was stuck with early bed, too? Great.

I didn't argue. I got in like he asked me to, and rolled onto my side, trying to breath around my swollen nasal passages. I heard him walk out of the room and stared at the wall, waiting for him to come back, which I knew he would do since he left the light on. Plus, he hadn't kissed me goodnight.

He eventually came back into the room and climbed into bed beside me, shifting the covers as he got in. "Sit up for me. You still have some writing to do." He said it gently enough, but I knew he wasn't kidding.

"Awwww, Vic!" I whined. I looked at him over my shoulder, stricken that he would expect me to sit up and write.

"Come on. I'll let you stay in bed. I'm going to sit here with you and read while you work," he said. I glanced past him and saw his new Patricia Cornwell book on the nightstand.

"I don't want to sit up," I argued, even though I was touched that he was staying.

"Then write on your side or your stomach. It doesn't matter to me, but you ARE going to write those sentences, and you'll do it tonight." He was like a rock. Hard and unmoving. I sighed and rolled onto my stomach, dragging a good bit of the sheet with me. He took no notice, plopping the paper and pen under my stuffy nose. I glared at him as I picked up the pen. He said, "Don't look so wounded. You knew better."

"I AM wounded," I said. I rolled back on one elbow for support and touched my other hand to my rump. "I was only going to watch the beginning."

"No television means what again?"

He didn't sound anywhere near ready to give in, but his dark eyes had a twinkle to them. "It means no TV," I resigned. I propped my chin in my left hand and started scribbling in a hurry. Vic interrupted me long enough to kiss my cheek, and I turned to him for more than a tease. He rewarded me with a full-lipped kiss on the mouth, pecking my lips lightly two or three times after the real kiss before he settled back with his book.

I was lost in the sentences, trying to ignore my screaming backside, when Vic's strong hand landed softly on the small of my back. I glanced over at him and he was deep into his book, holding it open single-handedly, unaware of my staring at him. I wriggled over closer, and that drew a look and a smile from him.

I smiled back. I still didn't want to go to the dentist, and I surely didn't want to write, but I did love being close to Vic. I hated how the night turned out. My thoughts distracted me while I wrote the sentences without thought. "I will not…" over and over went through my mind, finally repeating it the full one hundred times. I knew by heart how many lines there were per page in this particular notebook, and I did the math in my head to know when I was done. I snapped the pen down on the paper, and dropped my head onto my outstretched forearm. "I'm done," I announced.

Vic looked at the clock and reached over for the notebook and pen. "Record time, Pumpkin. I hope I can read it," he said suspiciously.

"You know what it says. You don't have to read it," I pointed out to him.

He narrowed his eyes at me then turned his attention to the paper, making sure every line was present and accounted for. "Nice job," he said.

The small bit of praise made me smile. I crawled through the sheets to him and planted myself against his chest, enjoying the gentle rise and fall from his breathing. "I'm sorry about tonight."

"I know."

We lay there like that for a few minutes in silence. I said, "Thanks for staying with me."

"No problem, Pumpkin. I like being with you," he told me.

I hugged him around his broad chest, and he laid his book down to surround me with both arms. Tangled in his embrace, I asked, "Are you still going to make me go tomorrow?"

Laughter rumbled through his chest and in my ear. "YES, already," he said. "I don't want to kiss on someone with rotten teeth."

I scowled against him. "I don't have rotten teeth."

"You will if you don't go to the dentist," he said. "Would it help at all if I go with you?"

"No," I muttered. "Not unless you want to take my place."

"You know I would if I could. In a heartbeat." The simple fact was, he would. I knew it with all my heart. Somehow, right at that moment, I found strength in that fact.

"You, um… Will you…?" I stumbled around the words and couldn't get them out for the life of me. Vic saved the day.

"Yes, I'll go with you. How about we plan something you like afterward so you can think about that?" He hugged me hard again. "Will that work?"

"Weeeell," I said. "It won't hurt."

Vic kissed the top of my head and reached for the lamp. He never lost his grip on me as he turned off the light and scrunched down in the covers. "Then let's plan on it. I can't make it so you don't have to go, but I can make it not so bad after it's over."

"Thanks, Vic."

"You're welcome." Maggie jumped up on the bed when the lights went out, knowing it meant her gents were settled for the night. She took a couple of turns in one spot then cuddled up in the crook of my legs. "When did you let Maggie in? I had forgotten about her."

"When I went for your paper and my book. You had other things on your mind," he said with another kiss to my head.

"Did you put her out because you were going to spank me?" I asked him suspiciously.

"It upsets her," he explained. I knew it did.

I said, "You could have avoided that, you know."

"As could you," he fired back. He's much too quick on his feet. Damn lawyer.

"You were being unreasonable," I pointed out.

He laughed at my assessment. "Oh, really? Is that what you think?"

"Yes," I confirmed for him.

"Sorry you feel that way. What do you want to do after the dentist tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject slightly.

"Movie and dinner?" I asked him. It was a test since I would have school the next day. A movie would press my declared 10 PM curfew. Vic passed with flying colors.

"EARLY movie and dinner, brat." I smiled in the dark and settled against Vic for the night.

The end.