All the NCT Units were at a showcase, preparing backstage. Jisung had gotten styled early so he had succumbed to boredom, walking around the dressing room in circles. The older ones were in a different dressing room, so that meant all the Dream members should be with him — but all he saw was Chenle, who was getting his hair done, and Jeno, Renjun, and Donghyuck, who were laughing at some stupid video.

Eyebrows furrowed, he tapped on Jeno’s shoulder to ask where the others were, but was promptly shooed away.

Jisung sighed and opened the dressing room door, passing Ten in the hallway. The older man waved at him but he halfheartedly returned the gesture, mind off and wondering where his hyungs were.

He heard Mark’s laughter coming from another room and furrowed his eyebrows, following the noise until he came to an empty dressing room. Pushing the door open, he was happy to see both Mark and Jaemin, but his happiness slowly diminished as he saw what they were doing.

“Jisung-ie,” Jaemin sang happily, beckoning the younger boy over, “Come to hyung.”

“I—“ Jisung’s mind was whirling as he stared at the two, mostly empty, soju bottles lying on the floor. “Why are you guys drinking?”

Mark waved the youngest away. “We’re just trying to get in the mood.”

Jisung blinked. “But hyung, we have a concert in a few hours—“

“Shhhhh,” Jaemin said, reaching a finger up and putting it on Jisung’s lips, “Hyungs know what they’re doing, Jisung-ie, it’ll be alright.”

The two seemed to find this the funniest thing and both promptly burst into laughter. Jisung opened his mouth and closed it, before slowly backing out of the door.

He stood in the hallway for a moment, knowing that the older Dream members had drunk in the past — all the times had ended in disaster, as the other Units seemed to have noses like bloodhounds for alcohol.

God, they’re so stupid, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose, I have the stupidest hyungs in the entire world.

“Jisung-ah?” he heard a voice ask and looked up, seeing Doyoung walking towards him. “What’re you doing out here?”

He bit his lip. “Ah — nothing, hyung.”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be back in the dressing room? Why are you walking around alone?”

“Just … wanted some exercise.” He winced at his own lie.

Doyoung blinked at him, before shrugging and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Hyung will walk you back to your dressing room, alright?”

Jisung nodded weakly, allowing the older man to guide him down the hallways. They arrived in front of Dream’s dressing room and Doyoung opened the door, stepping in.

He surveyed the room — Chenle was getting makeup put on, Donghyuck and Renjun were play-wrestling, and Jeno was filming the scene in front of him, laughing.

“Yah,” he said, walking over to Donghyuck and Renjun, pulling them apart. He flicked them both in the forehead. “One, don’t fight, it’s dumb. Two, where are Mark and Jaemin?”

Donghyuck clutched his forehead like he’d been shot. “We weren’t fighting, hyung—“

Doyoung rolled his eyes. “Play-fighting, fighting, all the same in my book. But where are Mark and Jaemin?”

Renjun shrugged, Donghyuck following suit. He looked up at Jeno, who shrugged as well, before finally turning to Jisung, who had taken a spot next to Chenle and was talking with him in a hushed voice.

“Jisung-ah, Chenle-ah,” he said, walking up to the two youngest members and putting two hands on the tops of their heads, “Do either of you know where Mark and Jaemin are?”

“Oh, Jisung was just—“ Chenle began, before Jisung promptly hit his arm, causing him to hiss.

Doyoung narrowed his eyes at the youngest. “So you know where they are?”

“N-No, I don’t know where they are, hyung. I don’t know what Chenle’s talking about.”

Doyoung hmm’d, thinking for a moment. Jisung offered him a weak smile, hoping the older wouldn’t see through him.

In the end, the man sighed, before patting the younger’s head. “Alright, Jisung, but if you’re lying, Mark and Jaemin won’t be the only ones in trouble.”

With that being said he walked out of the room. Jisung let out a sigh of relief and sunk down into his seat, Chenle watching him curiously.

“But you were just talking about how you saw Mark and Jaemin, Jisung,” he said, eyebrows furrowing, “Why didn’t you tell Doyoung?”

“I don’t want to get them into trouble.”

“Why would you get them into trouble? Didn’t you say they were down the hall?”

“Yeah, but…” he sighed, saying the next words in a hushed voice, “They’re drinking, Chenle — if they get caught, they’re insanely ed.”

Chenle’s eyes widened and he shouted, “They’re drinking?”

The room went silent as the other members looked up from what they were doing, eyebrows raised.

“Who’s drinking?” Jeno asked, walking up to the younger teenagers, the other 00 liners following him.

“Mark and Jaemin,” Chenle said, letting out one of his dolphin laughs, “Aish, they’re so stupid.”

“And they didn’t invite me,” Donghyuck said, shaking his head. Renjun smacked him on the arm and he sent him a hurt look. “I didn’t mean it, I’m not stupid enough to drink before a concert. I’m also not stupid enough to drink when the other units are, like, ten metres away from us. I swear Taeyong can smell booze the second someone who’s been drinking walks through the door.”

“Mm,” Jeno said, nodding. “But Jisung, you realise that if Mark and Jaemin get caught, you’re ed as well, right? Doyoung-hyung hates lying, especially when it comes to things like this. I remember I lied about Donghyuck and Jaemin sneaking out once and, well—“

“It didn’t end well for any of us,” Donghyuck finished the sentence, looking off into the distance with a solemn face.

Jisung flushed. “I — I just want to be a good dongsaeng.”

“We raised him well,” Renjun said with a smile, “Let’s just pray Mark and Jaemin aren’t stupid enough to get caught.”

As if on cue, the door to their dressing room burst open, two hysterically laughing teenagers entering. The other Dream members watched as Mark stumbled towards the couch, plopping down on it and Jaemin waved at them.

“Hey guys,” he said with a bright smile, “Have you ever realised that soju mixed with Coke tastes really good?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, guiding Jaemin to sit on the couch as well, as he was swaying dangerously. “Aish, you guys are so stupid.”

“Yah, I’m your hyung,” Mark said, waving a hand at Donghyuck sloppily, “Don’t call me stupid.”

Once the two were situated on the couch, Jaemin almost immediately falling asleep on Mark’s shoulder, Donghyuck turned to the other members.

“Well, what the hell do we do? They’re not going to get sober before the concert, which is only in an hour and a half.”

“We could tell the others,” Renjun said, chewing on his bottom lip, “I think it’d be for the best. It would probably save us trouble in the long run — they’ll find out eventually, and if they realise we kept it from them for so long we’ll all be in trouble, as well.”

“He’s got a point,” Jeno piped up, “It’d be better for the older members to know, otherwise the show’s gonna be a disaster.”

Donghyuck sighed, sitting on a chair. “Well, that raises the question — who the hell wants to go into the others’ dressing room and tell them that Mark and Jaemin are -faced? Because I definitely don’t want to.”

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek. “I can go tell them. Doyoung-hyung won’t be as angry with me if I tell him the truth.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Mark asked from the couch, his words slurring. His eyes were half-shut, obviously tired.

“Nothing, hyung,” Jisung said, getting up from his seat, “Just go back to sleep.”

Mark waved his hand at nothing and did so, his head lolling to the side.

“We’ll make sure they don’t do anything stupid, Jisung-ah,” Jeno said, ruffling the younger’s hair, “Good luck, though.”

He smiled at his hyung before exiting the dressing room, the few metres to the others feeling like an eternity. Once he was there, he knocked hesitantly on the door, watching it swing open a few moments later. Johnny stood there, smiling at the youngest.

“What’s up, Jisung?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Um,” Jisung wasn’t sure where to start, “Is Doyoung-hyung here?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he’s getting his hair done. You wanna come in?”

Jisung sighed but nodded, trailing after the older man. The other members looked up as the maknae entered, before going back to what they were doing.

He shuffled over to Doyoung, who was scrolling through his phone. “Hyung?”

The older looked up, starting to smile but immediately stopping when he saw the nervous look on Jisung’s face. “Jisung-ah? What’s wrong?”

His voice was quiet as he spoke, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt and looking down. “Remember when I said I didn’t know where Mark-hyung and Jaemin-hyung were?”

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed and he quickly turned to the stylist, telling her to stop for a second. He moved to look back at Jisung. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, um,” Jisung chewed his lip, “Theymayormaynothavebeendrinkingandthentheygotreallydrunkandnobodyknowswhattodobecausewehaveashowsoonand—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Doyoung said, a placating hand landing on his forearm, “Slow down, Jisung, I can’t understand you.”

“Well, I didn’t want to not tell you the truth but I didn’t want them to get in trouble… so that’s why I lied and, like, now we really need your help because we’re not sure what to do with them.”

Doyoung blinked. “Jisung, I don’t think I caught what you said at first. What do you need my help with?”

“Mark and Jaemin got really drunk and passed out,” he said simply, his voice loud in the otherwise silent room.

Doyoung’s mouth fell open and Jisung could hear a chair screech, a hand soon clamping on his shoulder and whirling him around. Taeyong stood there, a scary look in his eyes that the other Dream members had talked about, but Jisung had never seen.

“What did you just say, Jisung?” he asked calmly. “Because I swear I just heard you say that Mark and Jaemin — our Mark and Jaemin — are drunk.”

Jisung gulped. “Uh — that’s what I said, hyung.”

Taeyong pinched the bridge of his nose, letting the hand drop from Jisung’s shoulder as he looked up at the ceiling. “I’m too young for this, I swear.” He sighed, grabbing Taeil as he stormed out of the dressing room, who yelped as he was taken from his spot on the couch.

Jisung watched with helpless eyes while Doyoung just sighed, standing up from the chair. The youngest yelped as he was suddenly bent forward slightly, a sudden ten smacks causing him to lurch forward in surprise.

“Ow, hyung—“

Doyoung patted his head. “I had to do that, Jisung. You know I don’t like lying, it would have been easier if you’d just told me in the beginning.”

He pouted, allowing himself to be manoeuvred into the other man’s lap. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, don’t worry,” Doyoung reassured, “You did the right thing, Jisung-ah. Why don’t you stay here for awhile with us? I doubt it’s going to be pretty in you guys’ dressing room.”

Nodding, Jisung let himself relax, shifting a bit as he wondering how Mark and Jaemin were faring.

/

, was the first thought on Mark’s mind as he was abruptly taken out of sleep from the door slamming open loudly. His head was pounding and his vision blurry, but he could hear someone yell, “Lee Mark and Na Jaemin, you guys are dead!”

A strong hand grabbed his forearm and he blinked blearily, Taeyong’s face swimming into vision. He wanted to gulp, though his mouth was too dry.

He turned his head slightly and saw Jaemin, somehow still passed out, being picked up by Taeil. He mentally prayed for the younger, as the look on Taeil’s face seemed to spell death.

“You and I, Lee Mark, have a lot to talk about,” Taeyong growled, turning to the other Dream members, “Go to the other dressing room, you guys. We need some privacy.”

Mark watched as the others left slowly, all sending knowing, sympathetic looks towards him. He bit his lip as the door closed, leaving him with a very angry Taeyong.

Taeyong set him down on the ground and he struggled to stay balanced, his head spinning. The leader handed him a big glass of water, watching him gulp it down before pointing to the corner.

“Go,” he said, frowning, “I need some time to think.”

Mark made his way to the corner with a little difficulty, resting his forehead on the cool wall once he got there. , he thought, closing his eyes, , , .

“I’m going to go get some things,” Taeyong said suddenly, his voice coming from directly behind him, “If you come out of the corner while I’m gone, I will know and I can promise that you will not like the consequences.”

Mark gulped as the door slammed shut once again, leaving him in the silent dressing room, alone with his thoughts.

He stayed in the silence for a good ten minutes, mentally re-evaluating his life choices leading up to this point. He heard the door open and a pair of footsteps walking into the room — , was the only thing he thought.

“Mark,” he heard Taeyong say, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut, “You can turn around.”

He did so hesitantly, coming face-to-face with the older man, who had a frown on his face.

“Hi,” he said weakly, lowering his eyes. Taeyong sighed and reached out a hand, pushing him down onto the couch.

“What the hell were you thinking?” the elder asked, pacing in front of him. “We have a show in an hour and you decided to, what, get drunk? You’re not even of age, Mark! If this had spilled to the news, we’d all be ed.”

“I—“

He was silenced with a hand gesture, causing him to shut his mouth, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What you did was not only extremely stupid, but could have hurt your career — do you know what the news outlets would say if they caught wind that you were drinking before a concert, as a minor? You’d never hear the end of it — is that what you want?”

Mark was still chewing on the bottom of his lip. “N-No—“

“And that brings me to my next point,” Taeyong continued, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You were underage drinking. With Jaemin, who’s, what, a year younger than you? By God, you should know better. And this isn’t even the first time! It was only a few months ago when you were punished for the same exact thing, Lee Mark!”

Mark cowered, staring down at his hands. I am so ed.

“Seeing as though this isn’t even your first time doing this, meaning you should have known better, I’m going to punish you now and when we get home,” Taeyong said, causing Mark’s mouth to drop open.

“Wait, hyung, isn’t that—“

“Hush,” the older man’s voice was harsh as he sat down on the couch next to Mark, efficiently pulling him over his lap.

God, I’ve been in this position too many times, he thought forlornly.

“I trust I don’t need to lecture you any more,” Taeyong said, tugging down his jeans and boxers, causing him to whine, “Though I want you to think long and hard about this, and I expect answers at the end.”

A loud smack resounded through the room and Mark winced, Taeyong’s hand leaving a burning sting behind. Another one soon followed, and another, until a rhythm was formed.

It was silent for a few minutes as Mark tried hard not to make any noises, instead focusing on squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could and clamping his teeth down on his bottom lip. But Taeyong’s hand soon struck the curve of his thigh and his , causing him to gasp, letting out a strangled yelp.

“H-Hyung—“

“Shh,” Taeyong said, tone tight, unmoving, “Think, Mark.”

And so he did, or at least, he tried to. He thought back to the morning, when Jaemin and him had found two forgotten bottles of soju left over from the last time they’d gotten drunk. They had looked at each other with a gleam in their eyes, twin thoughts on their mind.

Why, oh why, did we think that was a good idea? he thought dolefully.

He was taken out of his thoughts by a particularly sharp smack and he could feel the tears building up in his eyes. Once one fell, the others followed suit, until he was crying softly, burying his face into the couch cushions.

“I’m going to ask some questions,” Taeyong said, his hand still falling at what seemed to be an increasingly rapid pace, “And I want you to answer them the best that you can. Understand?”

“Yes, hyung,” he replied weakly, wincing internally at how pathetic he sounded.

“Good. First of all, where did you get the alcohol?”

Mark squirmed. “I… It was left over from the last time I drank.”

Taeyong paused for a moment. “Are you telling me that you didn’t throw it out? I swear I told you to.”

“Um,” Mark began, yelping once the smacks began again, “We, uh — ow! — may or may not have only thrown out a bit, we left some…”

“So this could have all been avoided if you had, what, listened to me?”

Mark bit his lip, not liking where this was going. “Y-Yeah…”

“I swear I’m going to have to search your dorm at this point,” Taeyong sighed, “I trusted you, Mark. I trusted you to listen to me, I trusted you to be a good hyung — do you want to lose my trust?”

“N-No!” Mark exclaimed, a flood of tears pouring from his eyes. That isn’t what he wanted at all. “Please, hyung, it was just … a lapse in common sense.”

“You’re damn right it was a lapse in common sense!” Taeyong’s voice was strained, and Mark could practically see the veins bulging in his forehead despite his face being smushed into the couch. “God, this discussion is not over, but we don’t have a lot of time so I’ll move to the next question. Why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to drink before a show? Drinking at the dorm is one thing, but before a show?”

Mark was all-but sobbing at this point, his feeling like it was on fire. “W-We found the alcohol this morning, and it was just a c-coincidence that we had a show coming up, and we were too excited to drink again and, and… I’m sorry, hyung.”

Taeyong sighed, his hand slowing down before coming to a stop. “I can tell you’re sorry, Mark, but this isn’t over. I’m going to give you twenty with the paddle now, but when we get back to the dorm, I swear you’re getting more.”

Mark sniffled, knowing it was futile to argue. “O-Okay, hyung…”

He felt Taeyong bend forward, reaching for something. He soon felt the cool wood of the paddle on his and winced, more tears already gathering in his eyes.

“Count for me, Mark,” Taeyong said, before lifting the wretched instrument high into the air, slamming it down with a resounding crack.

“Ah!” Mark yelled, almost lurching off of the older man’s lap. “O-One!”

The next one fell soon afterwards, and then another after that, and another, and another. Mark counted as best he could, though his words soon became muddled as he began to sob, kicking his legs in a futile attempt to ease the pain (though a quick smack to the thigh from Taeyong’s hand stopped that).

By the twentieth smack, Mark had deflated completely, resorting to hiccupping into the couch cushions, his body shaking with sobs. He heard Taeyong put down the paddle and vaguely registered that he had been drawn up into Taeyong’s arms, but his only response was to bury his face into the elder’s chest, sobbing.

“Shh, Mark,” he heard Taeyong say, his fingers lacing through his hair, “Shh, shh, it’s alright, hyung’s not mad at you, everything’s alright…”

His cries died down after awhile until he was just sniffling and hiccupping into Taeyong’s now-soaked shirt. The older man gently pushed him back, tilting his chin up with a finger.

“You ever do anything like this again and I swear you won’t sit for two months, understand?”

A low whine sounded from the bottom of his throat and he tried to bury his face back into the man’s chest, but was promptly pushed back again.

“I said, understand?”

“Y-Yes, hyung,” he said, voice weak, “I understand.”

Taeyong smiled sadly. “Aish, Mark, you know I don’t like punishing you — it hurts me as much as it hurts you.”

“That’s believable,” Mark snorted, almost forgetting about the situation he was in and rolling his eyes.

Taeyong let out a chuckle, reaching a hand down to pat his , causing him to squirm. “This kid,” he said fondly, lifting his jeans and boxers up with ease. He helped him stand, before getting up himself and reaching out his hand. “It’s an hour until the show, why don’t you come to our dressing room and get ready? I’m sure the stylists won’t mind.”

Mark took the offered hand, wincing with almost every step they took towards the dressing room. “Hyung, I think you hit me too hard.”

“So they all say,” Taeyong said, laughing slightly, “You’ll be fine, Mark.”

They entered the dressing room, which was crowded seeing as though the Dream members were lounging around as well. Everyone looked up as Mark and Taeyong came in.

“He lives!” Donghyuck yelled from his position on the couch, causing Yuta to smack his arm for being too loud, as he was trying to nap. “Ah, sorry hyung,” he lowered his voice until it was just an enthusiastic whisper, “He lives!”

“Hardly,” Mark said, pouting at Taeyong, who was leading him towards the stylist’s chair.

Taeyong pointed at the chair and Mark stared at him in disbelief. “You… expect me… to sit?”

“How else are you going to get your hair done?” Taeyong asked, folding his arms, eyebrows raised.

Mark stared at the chair for a few seconds, like it was going to jump out at any moment and bite his arm off. He hesitantly moved towards it, lowering himself down very, very slowly, much to the amusement of everyone else in the room.

He bit back a curse once his made contact with the chair, squirming and trying to find a comfortable position. To no avail.

Jaehyun, who was in the seat next to him, looked up from his phone with a smile. He reached out to ruffle his hair. “Hurt at all?”

Mark pouted at him, the older man laughing. “Taeyong-hyung hits too hard, hyung, I want to make a petition to get his hands amputated.”

“I’d sign it,” most of the younger members chorused.

“Yah!” Taeyong spluttered as everyone began to laugh, the atmosphere of the room lightening.

Mark smiled as everyone started to idly chat, his mind wandering to his poor friend, who had yet to return from Taeil’s clutches.

I hope he’ll be alright, he thought as the stylist began to mess with his hair.

/

Jaemin was, in fact, very not alright. He was bent over Taeil’s lap in an empty dressing room — in fact, the same dressing room Mark and him had been in mere hours earlier, the two offending bottles still lying on the floor — and screaming so loud someone could have mistaken him for being murdered.

“Yah, Jaemin-ah, calm down,” he heard Taeil say, the hairbrush that he was using momentarily stopping its onslaught, “You sound like you’re dying.”

“I am dying,” he said pathetically, squirming on the elder’s lap, “At least it feels like it.”

He could practically hear Taeil rolling his eyes as he was re-positioned in his lap, a leg going between Jaemin’s own to trap them and prevent further movement. “It’s only been five minutes, Jaemin — if this is what you think dying feels like, just wait.”

And so the brush continued to come down, landing with precision on his bared . Taeil had originally wanted to keep his boxers up, but once Jaemin had started cursing him out in a still slightly-drunken stupor, that idea had quickly vanished.

Jaemin had started to chew on his bottom lip — he hadn’t been spanked in awhile, seeing as though he’d been on hiatus for a good part of the last year. He had forgotten just how ing terrible it felt, mostly because of, a) the fact that he had done something to disappoint the other members so much, and b) it just really hurt.

He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes as the pain grew stronger and stronger, Taeil relentlessly bringing the brush down.

A few minutes passed and the tears started to fall, one by one. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out yelps every now and then before he couldn’t keep it in any longer. The tears began to pour down his cheeks as his resolve broke, murmurs of “Hyung, please,” slurring into his sobs.

Taeil slowed down, spacing the smacks further apart. He had already lectured the younger boy for a good twenty minutes, so he knew that he should start finishing everything up.

The brush came down in a flurry of hard smacks, causing Jaemin to let out a loud cry, deflating into the older man’s lap.

“Hyung, pleeaaaase,” Jaemin’s voice was thick with tears, “Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ 

He drifted off into tears, burying his face in the side of Taeil’s leg. It took him a couple minutes to realise that the smacks had stopped and were instead replaced by a gentle handing rubbing circles onto his back, but once he did he promptly burst into tears again.

Taeil lifted him up in one quick movement, balancing him on his legs so that there was no pressure on his . He continued to rub soothing circles, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath.

Eventually, Jaemin had stopped crying and was instead just sniffling, his eyes red from tears. Taeil patted his head.

“Are you going to do this again, Jaemin?”

Jaemin shook his head, hiccupping. “N-No, hyung.”

“Good boy,” Taeil said, helping him off his lap and lifting his clothes back up. He offered him a smile. “Shall we go back to the dressing room?”

Jaemin nodded, allowing himself to be guided back down the hallway, his movements slightly awkward as just walking hurt. Taeil rubbed his back the whole time, easing the younger’s pain.

When they walked back into the dressing room, Jaemin was immediately lifted onto one of the stylist’s chairs, his hair being attacked with a straightener.

“Ah, he finally returns,” Mark said, smiling sympathetically at him.. He looked a bit worn out, though the concealer under his eyes did well to hide it. “You good?”

“I think it’s impossible to be ‘good’ after getting your handed to you, Mark,” Donghyuck said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Jaemin looked down at him, seeing Renjun had his head resting on his thigh, Jisung curled up in his arms; it was a cute sight. “You of all people should know this.”

Jaehyun watched the teenager with a raised eyebrow. “I swear if you tease them, Donghyuck, you won’t like the consequences.”

Donghyuck flashed a sheepish smile, raising his hands placatingly. “Sorry, hyung.”

Jaemin chuckled at the other’s antics, listening as everyone drifted into conversation.

“I swear we’re never drinking again,” Mark told him, voice low so no one could hear him. “So not worth it.”

“When we’re of age,” Jaemin said, eyebrows furrowing, “But not soon. Definitely not soon.”

“Good,” Taeyong said loudly, somehow having heard them and coming up to the two. He clapped a hand down on each of their shoulders, “Because I don’t think that’d end well for either of you. Now, c’mon, we have a show to perform.”

“Ugh, I’m not ready for this,” Mark complained as he got up from the chair, wincing. Jaemin nodded in agreement.

Taeyong kept his hands clamped down on their shoulders as he steered them out of the dressing room. “At least this’ll keep you guys out of trouble for awhile.”

Somehow, Jaemin doubted that.