Holy Spanking, Batman! (Batman 60's series)
Author's Note: This fic is based around the episode of the 60s Batman series titled, "The Puzzles are Coming", in which Batman gives Robin a warning swat. I pick up the action after that scene takes place. For those who don't know, the Batman series wasn't serious like the comics - it was deliberately camp, and I've tried to preserve that here. Just for the fun of it, I also included several inside jokes from Burt Ward's book, 'Boy Wonder - My Life in Tights.' Do NOT read this if spanking in fics bothers you.
Holy Spanking, Batman!
By Haruka (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Batman and I left Artemis Knab's penthouse at the Gotham Arms in silence. We'd been all but thrown out, and much to our frustration, Mr. Knab had chosen to disregard our warnings. The Puzzler, his new Shakespeare-quoting business partner, remained inside after we left. No doubt he had all kinds of nefarious plans to take advantage of Mr. Knab's billions. The 'puzzle balloon' business that Knab was backing for Puzzler just didn't wash with me. I studied the sample he'd thrown at me as we headed out to the Batmobile.
"He sure has Knab wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?" I remarked to Batman, then leapt over the Batmobile door into my passenger seat. "What do you suppose he's planning?"
Batman opened his door and got behind the wheel, but didn't start the engine. "What did you think you were doing in there?" he asked.
Holy out-of-the-blue! He may as well have asked why I wasn't flapping my arms to fly to the moon. It was a question that didn't make sense. "What do you mean, Batman?"
"You all but accused Artemis Knab of making his money illegally."
I knew I had, and Batman had quickly apologized for me and gave me a single but firm chastising swat right there in front of the two men. It drove me up onto my toes momentarily, but I thought I'd shown professionalism by not reacting more than that or getting upset. In fact, I'd just carried on like nothing had happened.
"Yes," I admitted, "and you told them I was impetuous. I even agreed with you. What's wrong with that?" I didn't want to mention the swat. It was well-deserved, but embarrassing all the same.
"I also swatted you," Batman felt necessary to point out. "And despite that extra incentive to curb your tongue, what did you do less than two minutes later?"
I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. I hadn't done anything different than I ever do when we're face-to-face with a known criminal.
Batman's tone held an edge of impatience as he answered for me. "You called Puzzler a bunko artist and gave him an opportunity to show offense in front of Knab, insulting you in the process and inciting you to nearly attack him."
"You were going to, but I stopped you," Batman said. "And by then Knab was angry enough that we had no choice but to leave."
"We weren't going to convince him to be wary of Puzzler yet anyway, he didn't want to listen," I said, and held up the deflated balloon. "But at least we got this to run through the Batcomputer, and --"
"Robin, there is a point you're missing and one I must make," Batman interrupted me. He does that a lot. "There are times when your brashness can be quite effective with criminals -- it unnerves and frustrates them that a child can be allowed to get away with speaking to them that way. Often they _do_ give themselves away because of it." He allowed a long pause to make his point more dramatic. He does that a lot, too. "However, today, even after I swatted your bottom to bring your attention to the fact that you'd gone too far, you went even further. I consider that outright defiance, not to mention careless crimefighting, as it resulted in our having to leave before we were done."
By now my jaw was hanging open. "Batman, I'd _never_ openly defy you, you know that!"
"I used to think so. How old are you, Robin?"
"Fifteen and a half, you know that, too."
He just looked at me and I wondered if I'd need the Jaws of Life to extract my boot from my mouth. Or _his_ boot from my backside.
"At fifteen and a half, you are allowed a few lapses in judgment and to exhibit some impulsive behaviour, but to do so after you have already been warned immediately preceding the incident …." He shook his cowled head slowly. "I'm sorry, old chum, but that necessitates more severe consequences."
I didn't know what that meant and didn't want to ask. I played nervously with the balloon in my lap as we headed home. I'm ashamed to admit I prayed for a random bank robbery or something that would force us into a detour. No such luck.
I was relieved beyond belief to see Alfred dusting the Batcave when we pulled in. With the pressing business of solving the Puzzler's earlier clue and now the balloon he'd given me, coupled with Alfred's presence, I figured I had a better-than-average chance of Batman deciding to delay (or better yet, forget) whatever punishment he had in mind.
I guess wishful thinking is common to being fifteen and a half, too.
"Welcome home, sirs," Alfred greeted as we got out of the Batmobile. "I trust your investigation proved fruitful?"
"All we accomplished, Alfred, was antagonizing Artemis Knab and pushing him even further into Puzzler's trap," Batman replied with a significant glance in my direction as he folded his arms.
I gulped. "It was my fault, Alfred. I spoke in haste."
"Something we are all guilty of at sometime or another, Master Robin," Alfred assured me.
"What he _isn't_ telling you, Alfred is that he was warned the first time it happened and then he did it again immediately afterwards." Batman cast me a knowing look as he strolled past me, then came back around, having circled me from behind. I began to get an unnerving feeling.
"Alfred, why don't you go see if Aunt Harriet needs anything?" Batman suggested.
"I'll go up, too," I said quickly and was about to break the Gotham High sprint record doing so when Batman did something he'd never done with me before.
He raised his voice.
"ROBIN!" he said authoritatively. "I'd like for you to remain, please."
Alfred gave me a reassuring pat on the back of the cape and began to leave. I caught him by the sleeve.
"Wait, please," I begged and looked at Batman. "What are you going to do?"
He began strolling slowly around me again, forcing me to turn in order to remain facing him. "Something I never thought would be necessary," he said. "That swat I gave you earlier is not the first time I have had to give you a quick reminder like that, but never before has a full spanking been necessary. I think one is warranted now."
Not even realizing I was doing it, I backed up and shifted to a spot just slightly behind Alfred. Our faithful butler may be elderly, but he's also six-foot-nine and it gave me a false sense of security to have him between myself and Batman, whom I feared had no bats left in his belfry.
"Batman … Bruce … please …," I pleaded. "You don't have to do this, I promise I won't speak out of turn again. I won't even open my mouth unless you okay it, really!"
"Robin," he said, shaking his head and allowing another lengthy pause, "that's not very likely nor very practical. You've made a mistake and you have to own up to it, like any good citizen who has erred."
That was a low blow, considering we try to be good examples for the people of Gotham City, but who was to know whether he spanked me or not when we were here in the Batcave? Just Alfred, and I knew _he_ couldn't approve of this.
"Master Batman has a point, Master Robin," Alfred said with his usual kindly smile. "We must all do our duty, be it pleasant or not."
I stared at him, betrayed. "Es tu, Alfred?" I asked, then could have cheerfully kicked myself for quoting Shakespeare. The Puzzler was obviously having a bad influence on me in more ways than one.
Batman clapped his gloved hands together and rubbed them. "Let's get to this, shall we?"
He sounded as if he were preparing to make a lasagna.
Then I realized I was still holding the deflated balloon. I held it up hopefully. "Shouldn't we get back to our most important job of figuring out the Puzzler's next move?" I urged, shamelessly appealing to Batman's sense of crimefighting morals.
For a moment, I thought it had worked. Then I realized he was just pausing for dramatic effect again.
"You should be ashamed of yourself for adding disobedience to your list of transgressions, Robin," he told me, making sure to move in front of me so that nothing else could be seen but himself and my attention had to be focused on him.
"But that's not --"
"We've wasted enough time with your dallying. Come over here." He took hold of my left bicep and began leading me toward the table where we usually spread out maps or items that are clues or where we eat when we don't have time to go upstairs. There were two chairs there -- Batman pulled one out and turned it around, seating himself in it, pulling me across his knees at the same time.
"Holy humiliation, Batman!" I cried, feeling panic as he pushed aside my cape and began peeling down my close-fitting shorts. I wanted to try and escape but couldn't disrespect him further. "Please don't do this!"
"I must," he replied. "It's my responsibility, just as enduring and learning from it is yours."
I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was a high-pitched yelp. Batman had landed the first blow.
If the purpose of the spanking was to learn a lesson -- well, I learned several. The first was how much I hate the sound of glove-on-skin (especially mine.) The next was that while I could take a punch in the face without a sound, having my bare bottom soundly walloped could produce a series of noises previously unheard from me (or anything else.) Not only that, but in my pain-filled haze I swear I could see _images_ of sound effects appearing in front of my vision (something I'd previously only noticed during fistfights with criminals.) *SWAT!* *SPANK!* *WHACK!* they read in big, bold letters.
And finally, I came to the conclusion that I loathed and despised Shakespeare and would forever after cringe when I heard his name or any quotes from his plays.
Puzzles weren't high on my list of favorites anymore, either.
I don't know when I started to cry. The begging and pleading for mercy is a blur, too. But finally something inspired Batman to stop the assault on my poor unprotected backside. Maybe he sprained his wrist or achieved a shade of red on my skin that he favoured. All that mattered to me was that he finally lowered my cape and said, "You can get up now."
I did, using the cape to cover me while I dressed myself. I hissed as the material of my shorts pressed against a behind that felt like one big blister. I wiped my eyes with the back of my glove. The material of my mask had absorbed a lot of the moisture already.
Batman stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. I didn't want to look at him, but knew that was what _he_ wanted, so I looked up into his eyes.
"Sorry, Robin, I had to do it."
And I had no choice but to accept that.
He clapped me on the back (thank goodness not the butt) and suggested we get back to work on the case right away. Despite my pain and humiliation (Alfred had seen the whole thing, I'm sure, but was discreetly looking the other way when I stood up), I readily agreed. Putting The Puzzler behind bars was the new, unwavering, number one goal in my young life as a crimefighter.
After a series of misadventures involving a lot more balloons (including one we nearly plummeted to our deaths in), my mastery at birdcalls, and getting stuffed into an airplane engine, we finally foiled The Puzzler's diabolical scheme and took him into custody.
And if I was a mite smug in saying, "I told you so," to Artemis Knab, I'm sure no one could blame me.
I don't own the Batman characters.
This fic is not to be re-posted.