A Firm Hand (Barney Miller fic)

Harris

Harris laid his tape recorder down on his desk. It still worked, actually. It was only the casing that was broken in places. He was still furious, though. Now he was in trouble with Barney, and it was all Wojo's fault. So when Wojo came out of the office and Barney called his name, Harris wasted no time getting up and stalking over. He would give Barney a piece of his mind.

He entered the office and paced before the desk, barely noticing that Barney closed the door behind him. His temper was still so hot, he could barely find the words to express how he felt. "That little . . . uneducated . . . cretin!"

"Harris . . . "

"That overgrown neanderthal thinks he can attack me?"

"Harris."

"Does he know what this book could do for him? For me? I've never met such an uncooperative, dimwitted--"

"Harris!"

"What?"

'You wanna tell me what happened out there?" It was not a question. Barney was staring Harris down with a look so angry, so intense, that Harris felt a small knife of fear stab his gut. He quickly covered it with self-righteous pride.

"What happened was that that big lug out there--"

"Are you referring to Detective Wojciehowicz?" Barney knew that he was, but the captain would brook no more name calling.

"Oh, who else? He broke my personal property and attacked me!"

"At which point, you punched him in the face."

"Yes! And look what he did to my hand." Harris held up his right hand, displaying his bruised knuckles.

Barney was very familiar with Harris's personal brand of indignation, and was tired of having to put up with it. He came over and leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "Harris, you know you were as much to blame for that fight as Wojo was."

Harris started to protest, "Barney, I--"

"No! No, Harris. No more self-righteousness, no more pride, no more shifting the blame. You are equally as responsible for this and you know it. Your strutting around like you're above everyone else creates a very unhealthy environment, and it's no good for maintaining friendships either."

"Strutting?"

"Taking into consideration the fact that you just got in a fight with your fellow office in the squadroom and show no remorse, and the fact that you are constantly trying to undermine my authority, I feel as though I have no other course of action but one. I have to punish you."

The way Barney said it, with equal parts determination and resignation, caused the knife of fear in Harris's stomach to twist. "Desk duty?"

"That hasn't seemed to work in the past."

"Then what?" Harris tried to keep his head high, his shoulders relaxed, and his expression unconcerned.

As an answer, Barney stood up straight and moved to stand beside the desk. He said the same thing he'd said to Wojo. "Over the desk, Harris."

It took Harris's brain a moment to register what had just been said. "Excuse me??"

"You heard me." Barney kept his voice stern. "I know you don't want to, Harris. I know your pride is, at this moment, screaming at you to refuse, to storm out of here. And I can't order you to stay. But hear this: I cannot work with you the way you've been acting. I want you on my team, Harris. I want you to remain a part of this family. We both know you're free to walk out of here and request a transfer. I want you to know that would break my heart. And it would break Wojo's heart. And Dietrich's heart. We want you to stay, Harris. But we can't go on like this. It's up to you."

There was a long silence. Harris stared at Barney in shock, his mind working overtime. A spanking? Barney wanted to spank him? But Harris had worked so hard to build up a sophisticated, dignified reputation. But to hear Barney tell it, he came off as nothing more than a spoiled brat. Was that all he was? Did he actually deserve this?

He wrestled with that thought, his eyes searching the whole room until they came back to Barney. His captain was looking at him with such a fatherly, compassionate expression, it was almost more than Harris could bear. He didn't want this. But he didn't want to lose this family he'd found for himself. A single thought entered Harris's mind then that wiped out all the others.

They were more important than his pride.

Harris lowered his gaze from Barney's and looked at the desk. This was it, then. He took a halting step over to the desk and placed his elbows on the worn wooden top. It was only then that he noticed the suspicious lack of papers on the normally-messy desk. It had already been cleaned off. Had Wojo . . . ?

Barney interrupted his thoughts when he opened the top drawer of the desk and took out his belt. Harris's heart pounded with increased intensity, but he looked away and said nothing. Until he felt Barney's hand on his lower back.

"Barn . . . ." he wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

From somewhere above him came the soft question, "Do you trust me, Harris?"

Harris relaxed his shoulders and dipped his head. "Yes."

The belt tapped lightly against the seat of his tailored pants, disappeared, and reappeared with a resounding crack. 

Harris gasped as the pain sliced across his backside. Another blow fell before he could collect himself, and he let out a strangled cry. Then he called upon his pride and squelched any other sound, determined to remain as poised as possible.

As the spanking went on however, and the sharp throb in his rear increased, Harris found it more and more difficult to stay still and silent. Muffled grunts escaped his throat with each bite of the belt, and he found himself trying to move his hips away from Barney. Barney simply hooked his hand over Harris's side to prevent him from inching away and continued to strap the young detective.

Finally, after a particularly strong smack blazed across the tender flesh where bottom and thigh met, Harris couldn't take it any more. A choked sob tore from his throat. "Barney, please . . . ." 

Barney stopped immediately. This was a punishment, not torture. He'd broken through Harris's pride, and that was all he intended to do. He threaded his belt back through the loops, giving Harris a moment to collect himself.

Harris pushed himself up off the desk, seeming a bit limp. He rubbed a hand over his face, then cleared his throat and adjusted his also-tailored suit jacket.

"Harris."

Harris tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn't embarrassed. "Yeah, Barn?"

Barney came over and put both hands on Harris's shoulders. "I'm glad you chose to stay. I don't know what we would do without you."

Tears threatened to fill Harris's eyes, but he fought them back and nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thanks Barney."

Barney stepped back and turned to his desk, spreading the papers back out so he could continue his work. "You can stay here for a minute, if you like." He offered, putting his reading glasses on so he could see what he was sorting.

"No thanks, Barn. I'm good." Harris walked over to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "Hey, Barn?"

"Mhmm?"

"Did you . . . uh, Wojo . . . did he . . . ?" Harris couldn't say it.

Barney glanced up at him over his glasses, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't you have work to do, Detective?"

Relieved that he wasn't the only one, Harris breathed out a soft chuckle and left the office.

His eyes met Wojo's searching gaze as he passed the other detective's desk. Harris gave him a single nod to say, we're good. 

He slid into his chair and flinched when his raw backside touched the hard surface.

Dietrich gave him a lazy smiled from his adjoining desk. "So how'd it go?"

"Oh, shut up, Dietrich."