Friday morning:
Gibbs scowled and mumbled something into the receiver, then hung up the phone.
'McGee!'
'Yeah, Boss?'
'What the hell did you do to the car yesterday?'
Tim paled, and sputtered incoherently.
'That was Dobson down in the motor pool, and if were up to him, he'd have you tarred and feathered. Says that would be easier to clean up, than whatever you got all over the seat.'
Tim's ashen face turned crimson in a matter of seconds.
'Uh... it was... uh... I mean... I... uh...'
Gibbs fixed him with a stern look, getting to his feet and rounding his desk.
'If I had to guess, I'd say you were trying to erase the effects of a well-deserved punishment.'
Tim continued to sputter, his eyes wide and frantic. Gibbs finally took pity on him and let his own face soften.
'Relax, Tim. You're hardly the first person to try to do something about the pain.'
He could see the younger man draw a deep breath of obvious relief.
'And if I ever feel it's necessary to forbid it, you'll know.'
Tim's mouth fell open in horrified surprise, obviously appalled by the prospect of being ordered to endure the lingering post-spanking pain without recourse to any kind of relief.
Gibbs took a step closer, and delivered an uncharacteristically gentle cuff to the back of his head.
'But, next time, try to make a bit less of a mess, ok, Tim?'