Memorable Fireworks

Summary: A holiday causes some reminiscing. Warning: discussion of spanking of children. Don't like? Don't read!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with them.

A/N: This is just a one-shot, and not part of my 'Lessons' series or the 'Future Perfect' universe.

Warning: This story contains references to the spanking of children. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.

'DiNozzo!' Gibbs barked as soon as the younger man stepped out of the elevator. 'You're late!'

'Is nearly getting blown up on the way to work a good enough reason, Boss?'

'What happened?' Gibbs queried, looking him over, concerned. That wasn't something Tony was likely to joke about, given what had happened when he'd met Jeanne's father.

'Some damn kids were shooting off fireworks in the park down the street from my apartment, aiming them at passing cars. One flew right over the hood of my car, like a damn RPG in the middle of DC. So, of course, I had to stop, catch the little punks before they really could blow someone up, and hold them until Metro could show up to scare the pants off them...'

Gibbs ignored McGee's sudden coughing as Tony continued.

'You know, I think I might just have to start hating Memorial Day more than Hallowe'en. I mean, no offence, Boss – I know what the day is supposed to mean, and it's not BBQs and fireworks – but who the hell thought that selling recreational explosives to any idiot with a lighter was a good idea?'

Tony finally stopped huffing and sat down with a put-upon flourish, dropping his backpack at his feet.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and turned towards Tim, who was still coughing... or, trying to cover up laughter, he realised.

'You got something to add, McGee?'

'No Boss.'

Gibbs just raised one eyebrow, knowing the younger man well enough to not believe him.

'Well, not really. Just remembering...'

When Tim didn't finish the thought, Tony prodded him with his usual big-brother glee at his obvious discomfort.

'Oh, you're not going to tell me that you blew up a car when you were a kid! I mean, I know you liked those geeky science experiments, but...'

'No, Tony, I never blew up a car. It was a shed...'

'WHAT?'

'...and it wasn't really me...'

Tim trailed off once more.

'Oh, come on! You don't get to say something like that and then not tell the story!'

'There's not that much to tell, Tony. The year I was twelve, my dad got stationed at Lejeune because they needed an instructor for some kind of joint Navy/Marines training thing. I was the new kid in school... again... and the youngest in my class... again... because I'd skipped grades. But some of the guys asked me to hang out with them, and I went, and they had some fire crackers that they'd gotten somewhere, and I didn't want to say anything because they were the kinds of kids who'd usually beat me up, not invite me to do stuff with them. So we let a bunch of them off, and then a few of them started aiming them at each other – you know, playing 'combat' – and then someone hit a storage shed out behind the motor pool.'

'And the shed was full of flares, and it put two Marines in the hospital when it blew up. Damn near burned down half the base. Would have, if they hadn't stopped the fuel tanks from catching.'

Tim stared at Gibbs, open-mouthed.

'How... how did you... Oh, my God! That... that... that was YOU?'

Tony was looking between the two men like he was watching a tennis match.

'Boss? McGee? What was who...'

'I saw a lot of idiot kids when I was an MP, but that was definitely one of the dumbest stunts...'

'Wait... NO!'

'Never made the connection until you mentioned it... I'd forgotten that one of the pissed-off fathers who had to come pick up their sons was Navy rather than a Marine.'

'Oh, no way!'

Tony looked like he was about to hurt himself laughing.

'Seriously? Tim? You got thrown in the brig by Gibbs when you were a kid?'

'Apparently,' Tim muttered, face crimson, looking like he wanted to crawl under his desk and hide.

'So what happened?'

Tim flushed even redder.

'It was one of the few times my father spanked me when I was a kid. Even though I hadn't really been involved, he said I knew better than to go along with something I knew was dangerous just because I wanted to fit in with the cool kids at school...'

Gibbs resisted the urge to agree with the assessment. He'd had this conversation with Tim twenty years ago; the younger man didn't need to be scolded again, in front of his partner, for something he'd done as a child.

'Well, cheer up, Probie. It could have been worse.'

Tim looked askance at Tony.

'How?'

'You could have been spanked by Gibbs!'

Gibbs shook his head, suppressing a smile.

'Nope. I didn't spank any of those boys. Didn't have to. Knew their fathers would take care of it.'

'Yeah, and some of them even proved it,' Tim muttered with a shudder.

Gibbs nodded, knowing what he was referring to but leaving him to tell the story. Tony had finally stopped laughing, and was looking at Tim with one eyebrow raised. Tim hesitated before continuing.

'Bobby Martindale's father was one of the first to get there after all our parents were called. He showed up still in his PT gear, and when Bobby got let out of the cell we were in, his father asked the MP – Gibbs, I guess – if he could borrow his belt. Then he took Bobby into the next cell. We couldn't see anything, but we could hear it. And then he marched Bobby over to the MP, thanked him for the belt, and asked him to keep Bobby in the cell overnight.'

Tony's eyes were huge as he processed the information.

'Boss? You locked up a twelve-year-old?'

'The Martindale kid was a week shy of his sixteenth birthday – he'd failed as many grades as Tim had skipped. And it wasn't the first time his father had to bail his ass out of the brig.'

'So you did a scared straight on him?'

'I don't know if it scared Bobby,' Tim commented before Gibbs could reply, 'but it scared the crap out of the rest of us. We weren't sure if all our dads were going to do the same thing...'

'None of the rest of you needed it,' Gibbs interrupted bluntly. He'd pointed Major Martindale to an empty office when he'd handed over his belt. He understood the man's

argument that since his son had made such a spectacle of his behaviour, he shouldn't expect to keep his punishment secret from his friends. But he still didn't think that making the younger boys listen to the strapping had been a good idea. Tim hadn't been the only one wide-eyed in terror.

Tony looked like he was about to say something else, but Gibbs abruptly changed the subject, sending his second-in-command down to Abby's lab to check on something.

As expected, as soon as they were alone, Tim looked up and started to stammer out an apology.

'Don't go there, Tim. And before you start freaking out on me, yes, I would have hired you even if I had remembered who you were. You were a kid. You did something stupid. That's what kids do. Your father took care of it a long time ago.'

'But...'

'No buts, Tim. As far as I'm concerned, the matter is closed.'

Tim still looked sceptical.

'Unless, of course, you don't think your dad punished you enough back then...' Gibbs continued, making sure the younger man saw that he was smiling. He waited until Tim hesitantly smiled back before he reached over to tousle his hair.