WARNING: Contains references to spanking.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. I just borrow them.
Sequel to Trapped
Tony stretched and ran his hands through his hair, groaning loudly. A couple of deep yawns later, he finally flipped back the blankets and dropped his bare feet to the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, his brain already fully engaged, even if his body wasn't. Naturally, his thoughts turned to the events of the day before – Stupidly getting trapped in a warehouse he had no business being in in the first place, getting reamed out by the director, the furious silence from Gibbs' side of the car…He shook his head to clear away the thoughts of what had happened after that.
He stood up and stretched again then hastily made his bed – a task that more often than not got skipped when he was home. As he brushed past the dresser on his way to the door, something caught his eye. His stomach flipped at the sight of the horrid wooden spoon still laying where Gibbs had deposited it the night before. He grimaced and quickly turned away.
A few minutes later, dressed in old jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, Tony padded down the steps and into the kitchen. As an afterthought before leaving his room, he'd picked up the hated spoon between two fingers (much like one would hold a dead mouse by its tail) and brought it with him. But even holding it as he was, he was surprised at how heavy it was. Sure, it had done quite a job on his backside, but it wasn't until he held it himself that he realized how solid it was. Upon arriving in the kitchen, he dropped it unceremoniously into a drawer and slammed it shut, willing the spoon to stay put and never, ever make an appearance again.
After a bowl of cereal, he headed out the back door and around the side of the house to the garage. He pushed up the door, which slid easily on its track and stood back peering in for a moment. To say that the garage was organized would be like saying Probie was good with computers. Rakes and shovels hung from pegs on the wall arranged by type and size. A shelf along one wall held bags of fertilizer and potting soil, gardening tools, coils of twine and rope, paint cans, containers of motor oil and antifreeze, an oil can and a red gasoline container.
Tony grabbed the gasoline and wheeled the lawnmower out onto the driveway. He looked down at the mower and pondered the fact that it appeared to be older than he was. But after filling the gas tank and priming it, it started with one tug on the starting cord. He briefly considered mowing a picture into the lawn but decided that considering he was mowing this particular lawn for a very particular reason, he was probably better off just going with standard stripes. But that did not stop him from amusing himself with ideas while he mowed – some making him both grin at his cleverness and cringe at the thought of what the lawn's owner would do when he saw it…
By the time the lawn was neatly mowed and edged and the hedges had been trimmed, Tony was absolutely starving. He put the lawn equipment away and headed into the house for some lunch. He had stuffed half of his sandwich in his mouth and was chewing it with some difficulty when he heard the faint sound of his cell phone ringing upstairs. Oh crap! The sandwich almost choked him as he launched himself out of his chair and up the stairs, trying to swallow large chunks of meat and bread. He grabbed the phone and flipped it open half a ring before it would have gone to voicemail.
"Maahhth," he said into the phone around his lunch, "I warwwy. I horot."
"Tony. Swallow."
He did and then tried again. "Boss, I'm sorry. I forgot."
"You doing ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…got distracted by something. And then I went and did the lawn and the hed…"
"Tony, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure you were ok."
"I'm fine. Um, how's it going there?" he asked, suddenly a little uncertain of himself.
"There are a couple of steaks in the freezer. Throw them in the sink to thaw for dinner," Gibbs said.
It did not escape Tony's notice that Gibbs had ignored his question. Work was always harder when they were a man down, and he was suddenly mad at himself again for screwing up and getting suspended. "Yeah, ok," he said into the phone.
"I should be home around six," Gibbs said and then hung up.
Normally, it wouldn't have even phased Tony to have Gibbs hang up so abruptly, since more often than not, that was how phone conversations with him ended. But the fact that he was now wallowing in a pool of regret made the click on the other end of the phone sting.
Tony flipped his phone shut and put it in his pocket. He slowly clumped down the stairs back to the kitchen, but he had lost his appetite. Leaving the uneaten part of his sandwich on the table, he went back upstairs to get started on the shower grout.