Gibbs propelled his protesting agent through the doorway, keeping a firm hand on the younger man's arm.
'C'mon, Boss...' Tony whined. 'You can't spank me! It was an accident! And, isn't there a rule that, once you start spanking other people, you don't get spanked yourself? And I spanked that kid on the Seahawk, so...'
Gibbs shook his head, not bothering to hide his smile. They both knew that he wouldn't spank him, if Tony genuinely refused. But he also knew Tony well enough to recognise that, while he obviously didn't want to be spanked, he didn't really object to being punished. If he meant it, he'd just say 'no'; he wouldn't wheedle like a kid trying to convince his father to let him off for some misdemeanour. And he certainly wouldn't bring up his own use of the kind of off-the-record consequences that he'd learned at Gibbs's hands.
Tony had called him after he'd dealt with the pot-smoking sailor, and he'd reassured the shaken Agent Afloat that he'd done the right thing, but he'd also dashed his hope that it would get easier, doling out punishment, with repetition. After that conversation, Gibbs hadn't been sure that Tony was willing to consider there being a next time. He didn't like to think that Tony's first time punishing someone had been traumatic enough to permanently influence his leadership style, so it was reassuring that he was now describing that evening as the 'start' of a pattern, rather than as a one-off event. Even if he was trying to use it to get out of a spanking. Now, still grinning, he dashed that hope, too.
'You think Mike Franks cared that I was used to spanking my Marines, DiNozzo?'
Tony sighed dramatically and muttered, 'Had to try...'
Gibbs didn't bother replying. Instead, he spun the younger man towards the side of the room where Tony's overnight bag was leaning against the wall.
'Get out of those wet clothes,' he ordered.
'Boss, I...'
'Tony, get changed. I don't want you getting sick, and you can't go out like that when the warrants come through.'
Tony slowly stripped off his sodden clothing and pulled on a dry shirt, obviously trying to postpone the spanking as long as possible. He was shaking out a folded pair of jeans when Gibbs stopped him.
'You might as well leave those off. Get over here.'
Tony looked at him in dismay, clearly unhappy about not being allowed the protection – physical and emotional – of being fully dressed. After a moment, he sighed audibly and dropped the jeans onto a stack of boxes and padded towards him in his stocking feet.
Gibbs seized the younger man by one wrist and towed him towards a battered brown corduroy couch, pulling him firmly over his lap as he sat down. He ignored Tony's squawk of protest, and brought the paddle down hard on his ass before he spoke.
'You've been acting all of ten years old all day, Tony. You only do that when you want my attention. Well, you've got it.'
Tony yelped and squirmed as he proceeded to pepper his backside with swat after swat. He knew from experience that his father made excellent paddles, and he had every intention of satisfying his surrogate son's curiosity once and for all. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to bring Tony to Stillwater in the first place; they had enough daemons between the two of them to make this 'conversation' more or less inevitable. Now he was just hoping that they'd only have to have it once.
Gibbs landed a final solid swat to the back of his thighs, turning the exposed skin an instant, vivid pink, and helped Tony to his feet. One arm draped affectionately around his shoulders, he steered the younger man to the small lavatory.
'Take your time, Tony. When you're ready, you can come out and apologise to Jack, and clean up that mess you made. And yes,' he added, seeing him begin to speak, 'you have to.'
Suppressing a smile at the sight of his senior agent pouting and rubbing his backside like a chastened schoolboy, Gibbs turned on his heel and headed back to the store, wondering what his father would make of the turn of events.
