A/N: This story contains very mild spanking and mouth-soaping of a young teen by a parent. If you don't like that, hit the Back button now.
Tim sighed, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder to hold it. He snagged a notepad with one hand, leaning over the desk to write. He was really glad for a lead in this case. They'd hit a wall late yesterday and needed one badly, but the call couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time. He should have been out the door to take Leigh to soccer practice nearly ten minutes ago. His daughter was now pacing behind him, muttering and growing increasingly agitated.
"Yeah, got it," he said to Agent Galway on the other end of the line, scribbling the information down.
A wadded paper ball sailed in a perfect arc from Leigh's direction and landed beside his notebook. He turned slightly and clicked his fingers at her, giving her what he hoped was a suitably stern look. It didn't particularly phase her. She groaned again, rolled her eyes, and flopped dramatically onto the raggedy office sofa, a faded relic left over from his college days that he and Abby had put in their office after the girls got older and often hung out in there to do homework or chat while one or the other of them worked on paperwork. It squeaked with Leigh's weight. At thirteen, she had the wiry build of an athlete, thin and gangly but with an underlying layer of muscle. Tim ignored the huffing and prayed Galway would get through quickly. He tried to pull his mind back into the conversation and the investigation, but Leigh started up with a running litany of complaints, growing louder and more vehement as the conversation went on. He couldn't understand a great deal of it, although stupid cases, being late, and having to run seemed to be frequent themes. He ignored it until she got loud enough to interfere with the conversation. Then, he put a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and hissed at her.
"Stop it. I know you're frustrated. I'm frustrated too, but this is important. You're getting dangerously close to disrespect. Settle down, now." He broke off, turning back to scribble down another note for later follow-up.
Leigh groaned dramatically, popping her lips in an annoyingly disrespectful way that she knew Tim hated. "Whatever."
Tim set his pen down on the desk with a solid, deliberate thunk, and turned slowly toward Leigh pinning her with a steady look. Leigh quickly looked away. Galway was winding up. Tim thanked him for the call, rattled off a series of quick instructions on how to proceed, and hung up. Now, he turned his full attention to his daughter.
"That was uncalled for, young lady," he said, taking a step closer.
Leigh sighed. "It's not fair, Daddy. Now I'm late, and Coach is going to make me run, and it's not my fault."
"It can't be helped, Leigh," he replied. "Cases don't run on our schedule."
Leigh rolled her eyes. "Cases...cases… cases … It's always some stupid case." She got to her feet, picked up her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Can we go now before I have to run even more?"
"I'm going to talk to your coach," Tim told her. "You're right. It wasn't your fault, and you shouldn't be punished for something you can't help. Your attitude, however, is another story." He caught her arm, intending to spank her, when another thought suddenly occurred to him and he ended up guiding her toward the kitchen instead.
Years ago, before the twins were ever born, when he and Abby were newly married, he, Tony, and Gibbs had been down in Abby's lab one day. Tony and Abby had been bickering playfully, as usual. The bickering had gotten a bit raucous, bordering on cuttingly sarcastic, and Gibbs had finally growled, "Enough. Don't make me wash your mouths out."
Tim, whose parents had objected to all forms of physical punishment, wasn't familiar with that particular method of correction. He'd watched with a mixture of astonishment and amusement as both Abby and Tony had immediately stop bickering and shifted their attention to completely to the case. He'd made no comment then but later at home had asked Abby about it. Abby had shuddered dramatically as she recalled her grandmother soaping her mouth as a child for using what her grandmother had termed 'dirty words' that she had picked up from kids on the playground at school. Tim had, at first, been horrified until Abby had explained that it was quite common in the rural South where she grew up and done right, was essentially harmless. It left nothing more than a lingering bad taste and the distinct knowledge that it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat again.
At the time, Tim had still been more than a little leery, and it wasn't at all something he could see himself doing with his own children. Now, however, he thought it might be just the sort of quick sharp consequence Leigh needed to draw her up short and put a stop to this nasty attitude.
He stopped by the sink, moving his right hand up to cup the back of Leigh's neck and reaching with his left for a small bottle of dish soap sitting in the window. It was organic and plant-based in deference to Katie's vegetarianism and environmental consciousness. Tim figured it would be harmless enough.
"Daddy, come on, I was frustrated. Can we just go?" Leigh whined.
"Being frustrated doesn't excuse the nasty attitude," Tim replied. "According to your mom, your great-grandma Scuito had a way of dealing with such things. She'd wash that mouth out with soap for you. I think that's a tradition we may have to carry on. Open up."
Leigh's eyes went impossibly wide. "No way," she said and clamped her lips resolutely shut.
Tim moved on instinct, removing his hand from the back of her neck and landing three hard swats across her backside. Leigh yelped, and when she did, he quickly squirted a small amount of soap into her mouth. Leigh would have spit it back at him, but an extremely stern, "Don't" and a firm tap to her bottom convinced her otherwise. He watched the clock on the wall turn over a minute and then told her she could spit the soap into the sink.
Leigh didn't need to be told twice. She immediately bent over the sink, spiting and sputtering as if her life depended on it. She turned on the faucet and scooped water by the handfuls into her mouth, rinsing and spitting franticly. Tim let her be for a moment then reached over and shut the water off.
"That's enough. We've got to go," he said.
Leigh reluctantly stood up. "That was mean, Daddy. That stuff is nasty."
"So was your attitude," Tim replied mildly. "Is it better now?"
Leigh eyed the soap bottle warily. "Yes, sir."
"Good," Tim said, dropping an arm around Leigh's shoulders in a one-armed hug. "Let's get out of here. Maybe if we cut through some residential streets and miss the worst of the traffic, we can make up some time."
"Well, come on then," Leigh replied, bolting for the door. Tim followed on her heels, shaking his head and marveling at the resiliency of youth.