Thanks to all who reviewed! :)
Gibbs got back up to the bullpen after Tony got to Abby's lab and was pleased to see the rest of his team still working on their reports.
"McGee! David!" He barked, not breaking stride, "conference room." He disappeared around the corner.
Ziva looked at McGee, eyes wide. Tim furrowed his brows at her.
"Did we do something?" She asked him.
McGee stood up, frowning. "I don't know."
"Something about the case?" She wondered. They fell into step together, walking nervously towards the conference room.
"I don't know, but he sure sounded pissed."
They entered the conference room to see a stone-faced Gibbs standing there, arms crossed. Tim gulped and caught Ziva's eye when they saw the black leather belt doubled over in Gibbs' fist. Tim shut the door behind them.
"Gibbs." Ziva's tone was somewhere between a question and a greeting.
McGee's eyes darted from the belt to Gibbs' face and back. "What'd we do?" He asked.
"Tony." Gibbs said.
"What about Tony?" Ziva said.
"Earlier today, when you were questioning the residents—or I should say, when he was questioning the residents….where were you two?" Gibbs asked.
"Um, the car, boss." McGee said.
"Both of you?" Gibbs said.
"Um, yeah…"
Gibbs adjusted his stance and uncrossed his arms. He didn't miss the way Tim and Ziva's eyes watched the belt as he moved his arm down to rest at his side. "I'm going to ask you a question." Gibbs said slowly. "A yes or no question. Did you turn off the feed of DiNozzo talking to the residents when you were both sitting on your asses in the car?"
"We listened to most of it—" Ziva started.
"Yes or no, David!" Gibbs roared.
Ziva blinked, taken aback at his tone. She caught McGee's eyes briefly and looked at her feet. "Yes, Gibbs."
"Why?" Gibbs aimed the question at Tim.
Tim licked his lips. "We…uh, we got tired of hearing him, boss." Beside him, Ziva winced. Tim hung his head. It sounded so bad now that he thought about it.
Gibbs took a breath and walked towards them, making a slow circle around his agents. "What if someone had suspected and shot at Tony? What if he needed to contact either of you for any reason? What if he needed back up?" Gibbs was unable to keep the rage out of his voice. The thought of his senior field agent getting shot and killed because of his partner's stupidity was almost too much to handle.
"Do you realize how stupid what you did was?" Gibbs growled. "How would you like it if your partner abandoned you when you needed back up?"
He completed the circle and stood in front of them, waiting for an answer.
"I would not like it." Ziva said.
"Neither would I." Tim said quietly.
"I need to know that you guys have each other's six." Gibbs said. "What happened today out there is unacceptable." He took a breath. "If you guys can't work together, you can both transfer to another team."
Both their heads snapped up. Ziva actually had tears in her eyes. He knew that that would cut deep. He knew Ziva thought of him as a father.
"You want us off the team?" Ziva said.
"No." Gibbs said. "The last thing I want is to disband my team. But like I said, if you guys can't work together and watch each other's six, that's what's going to have to happen."
"No, boss." McGee said in a strangled tone. "We won't do something like this again. Ever." He assured Gibbs. McGee gulped, realizing now the gravity of what he and Ziva had done. This was such a mess.
"I'm sorry." McGee said. "I know how you feel about those, but I—" he looked at Ziva, "—we, never thought that Tony's life would be endangered. We have his six. Always."
There was a beat of silence and Ziva spoke. "We are sorry, Gibbs."
"It's not me you need to apologize to." Gibbs growled. He glanced down at the belt he held. "You will both apologize to Tony. If he accepts, you're still on the team, if he doesn't accept, your asses are getting transferred."
There was a beat of absolute, shocked silence before Tim and Ziva both nodded vigorously.
"Where do you want us?" ZIva asked.
Gibbs dropped his free hand on Ziva's shoulder and steered her to the far corner of the room.
"Stay here." He whispered. "Don't turn around. Don't move."
"Yes, Gibbs." She breathed, nodding once.
Gibbs turned back around. McGee was fiddling with his fingers, watching Gibbs nervously.
"Over the table, McGee." Gibbs said in a quiet, commanding voice.
Tim nodded and turned around, bending over the cool surface.
"Pants and shorts down, Tim." Gibbs said.
Tim paused, then straightened and unfastened his grey pants. His face heated as he pushed them down over his ass. He stood there for a moment.
"McGee." Gibbs said, a warning in his voice. McGee turned and looked at his boss, mildly pained at the order to take down his boxer-briefs.
"It's no less than you deserve, Tim. You guys really messed this up."
Tim nodded, then tugged his shorts down to his knees. He glanced quickly behind him at Ziva. She was facing the corner, standing in parade rest, not moving a muscle. Tim bent over the table again and stared at the far side of the room. It felt weird to be half-naked in this room. He felt Gibbs' hand on his back, pressing him firmly down onto the table's surface before his jacket was tugged up, away from his ass.
"You know what this is for, Tim?" Gibbs asked. Tim heard the belt buckle jingle and he licked his lips.
"Turning off the feed." He said.
"Brace yourself."
There was silence, then a whoosh and a loud, smacking slap. Tim winced as the sting diffused over his ass. He hadn't gotten a good look at the belt, but it sure felt heavy and wide. Another thwap. Tim stiffened as the belt continued heating his ass, making the skin sting and throb. He really hoped Gibbs wasn't going to lecture. He was wrong.
"Tony could have died because of you both." Gibbs growled. Slap. Tim let out a little yelp.
"And for what?" Thwack. "Because you were sick of hearing his voice?" Thwap, thwack.
"Ow!" Tim squeaked.
"What do you have to say about that?" Gibbs prompted, throwing the belt down on his agent's rapidly reddening ass.
"It was stupid!" Tim yelped. His voice cracked a little, making this whole thing even more embarrassing.
"What was going through your head when you turned off the feed?" Gibbs asked. Thwap!
"I…ow—it's like I said boss! Ow! I was sick of hearing his voice and his lame jokes and pick-up lines!" He yelped again and wiped his eyes on his shoulder, sniffling.
"Those very same lame jokes and pick-up lines that were invaluable to cracking the case?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes! Ow—boss, seriously…" Tim grunted as Gibbs laid the fifteenth or so whack on his ass. "They may have been invaluable, but at the time they were just annoying!" Tim squeaked and dropped his head down as the belt kept connecting with his burning, throbbing ass. It felt like Gibbs was flaying the skin off now. He could barely tell where the fresh marks were landing. "I'm sorry I did it!" He cried. "Never again—I got it!"
McGee was suddenly aware of Gibbs leaning down beside him. The painful whacks had blessedly stopped. The warm coffee smell on Gibbs' breath tickled Tim's ear. "You'd better get it." Gibbs murmured. Tim saw the belt get tossed casually on the table in front of him and he sighed in relief, despite everything. "If anything like this happens again," Gibbs continued, "to anyone you're supposed to be backing up, there won't even be a choice, Tim. You'll be off this team faster than you can blink."
Tim nodded and took a shuddery breath. "Yes, Gibbs."
Gibbs straightened. "Stand and pull up, McGee."
McGee struggled off the table, his ab muscles stiff from where they had been pressed into the hard wood. He wiped a hand over both eyes and yanked his pants up, hissing as they rubbed against his ass. The skin still stung like hell and Tim had a feeling he'd be wincing a lot for the next day or two.
When Tim was covered up, Gibbs barked at Ziva. "Agent David, front and center."
Ziva turned out of the corner and came forward. Gibbs caught Tim's eye and jerked his head at the empty space. Tim nodded and took Ziva's place, glad his part of the punishment was over. He wiped the last of his tears from his face and rested a hand on his red hot ass, wincing and pulling away. He could feel the heat even through two layers of fabric. It had been a while since McGee was on the receiving end of a whipping, and he'd forgotten how painful Gibbs' discipline could be, though he had no doubt in his mind that he deserved every stroke.