Tony sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room with his heart in his throat. He could hear Abby crying, and that had him wanting to go out there and defend her, even though he knew that Gibbs would never, not in a million years, actually cause Abby harm. But it sure sounded like she was being tortured.
He couldn't let her hear him like that. No way. She was like his sister; he wasn't going to wimp out in front of his little sister. Even though Abby probably wouldn't think anything of it, Tony would.
Finally, the crying and yelling stopped, and Tony was torn. On one hand, he was grateful, because that meant that Abby wasn't in pain anymore; on the other, that meant that Gibbs was going to come deal with him.
Tony did not want to be dealt with.
His father had dealt with him on a regular basis when he was a kid. Sometimes the punishments had been creative, at other times not so much, but they had always been painful and they had always left their mark, in his head if not on his skin. He could still remember that Halloween, and the whipping he'd thought would never end, the stain of his blood on his father's belt.
He felt his gorge rise, and he shook his head, pushing the memories back where they belonged. The fear remained.
This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, waiting for his boss to come and whip his ass like a little kid. And even more ridiculously, he was scared. Scared. His heart was beating so fast it hurt.
Abby had taken it. He wasn't going to let Abby put him to shame.
Then again, Gibbs loved Abby. She was his favorite, and everyone knew it. He'd never even smacked her in the head; Tony was one really good slap away from a concussion. He was not Gibbs' favorite. He might even be his least favorite. Tony swallowed.
Maybe it would be better to take his chances with that second punishment. It might not be as embarrassing, and it couldn't possibly be more painful than being whipped. Not too many things Tony had experienced hurt worse than the slice of a belt over bare skin, and the things that did...well, Gibbs wasn't going to shoot him, break any body parts, or stab him. He was confident in that, at least.
There was a knock at the door. Tony jumped to his feet.
"Can I come in?" Gibbs' voice floated in from the other side of the door. Tony was surprised that he asked, but he found his voice.
"Yes, sir," he answered. The door opened noiselessly and Gibbs stepped in. He was dressed in sweatpants and an old NIS tee shirt. Why had he changed his clothes?
Gibbs answered his silent question. "Abby got makeup on my shirt."
"Right," Tony said, swallowing again. Gibbs shut the door behind him. Tony felt his blood pressure spike.
Gibbs turned back and looked at him. Tony had to fight the urge to run, the urge that was pounding through his bloodstream. Stupid. If he was going to run, he'd had plenty of time. But Tony wasn't going to disobey Gibbs. The whole point of hanging around to take the punishment was that he didn't want to lose his job. So instead of running, he dropped his gaze.
He could feel Gibbs standing there, looking at him. After a long stretch of silence, Gibbs cleared his throat. "Well, Tony?" he asked.
Tony was surprised at the quiet tone and the use of his first name. "Boss?" he replied, staring down at his feet..
"Are you ready?"
Tony's chest felt sick. "I'd rather take the second punishment, sir," he replied. He heard his voice shake ever-so-slightly, and his cheeks flushed. Damn it.
He could feel Gibbs' eyes on him, studying him, and suddenly he got the feeling he'd chosen wrong.
"Alright," Gibbs replied finally. "Come with me."
Tony thought his heart was beating as fast as it could, but the rate jumped again. Oh God. What was Gibbs going to do? With heavy feet, Tony followed Gibbs out of the room.
They walked down the hall into the kitchen, and Tony wondered if he was going to hurl. His eyes focused on the stove; would Gibbs burn him? His father had burnt his hand once as a child for playing around with the fire poker, but that seemed too sadistic for his boss. Covertly, he rubbed his thumb against the scar across his palm.
Gibbs crossed the floor and opened a small pantry. He removed a bag of rice and looked at Tony. When their eyes met, memories hit Tony one after the other like photos in a filmstrip.
His father holding a box of grits. Pouring them on the floor in a tiny linen closet, until there was a thick layer. Forcing Tony to his knees inside that little space. The claustrophobia; he couldn't even change positions because the space was so small. The pain as the grits had dug into his skin. Hours of pain. Tony felt himself blanch.
Gibbs hesitated, and Tony decided to beg.
"Boss, please," he said, hardly louder than a whisper. "I'm sorry. Please don't do this." He remembered the claustrophobia; rolling over him in waves until he'd turned into a sobbing puddle of snot, and the pain wouldn't end. He couldn't handle it. How the hell was he even going to fit in that little closet? He'd just barely be able to squeeze in there...what if he got stuck? He tried to make himself breathe.
Gibbs was still holding the bag of rice, his eyes focused on Tony's face. Tony couldn't read them.
"Please. Boss, I..." Tony was about three seconds from a panic attack; he could feel it building inside of him. He swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were threatening. "Gibbs..."
Gibbs looked at him. "One or the other," he said, his face unreadable. Tony wished he could hear his boss's thoughts..
A whipping could only last so long but Gibbs could leave him kneeling on rice in a closet forever. "The whipping," he begged. "I'll take the whipping."
Gibbs' eyebrows raised. He turned and put the rice back in the cupboard. Tony took a couple of shallow breaths. "Not a whipping, Tony," Gibbs said. "A spanking."
Tony didn't see the difference there, but he didn't say so. A belt against the back or a belt against the ass; both hurt like hell, and the only difference he could think of was the humiliation factor involved. Not that Gibbs hadn't seen him naked before, with that stupid iguana incident...
Gibbs jerked his head. "Go back to the guest room," he said. "I'll be there in a minute."
Tony didn't immediately move. "Boss..."
"Go," Gibbs said. He didn't sound mad, but that was a command if Tony had ever heard it. He went.
He stood next to the bed and silently debated. Would Gibbs bring in a belt, or would he ask for Tony's? He'd probably bring in his own, but if he didn't, Tony wasn't sure he could handle having Gibbs stand there, waiting for him to take off his belt.
He unbuckled it and pulled it loose of his belt loops, dropping it distastefully on the bed. Then he stood, waiting, clenching his fists so his hands wouldn't tremble.
He was almost ready for the knock on the door.
The look on Tony's face when Gibbs had dug the rice out of the cabinet had stopped him short.
Pure horror.
He wouldn't have even thought DiNozzo would have heard of the punishment; it was pretty old-fashioned even when Gibbs was growing up. But Tony's face had said he knew exactly why he'd grabbed the rice...and it scared the hell out of him.
Gibbs knew kneeling on rice was a painful punishment; that was why he'd chosen it. But he'd never thought it frightening before.
Looking at Tony's face, he'd known something was deeply wrong. And then Tony had opened his mouth.
The voice that had emerged was not Tony DiNozzo's voice, self-depreciating and humorous in almost all situations. Instead, he'd heard the voice of a victim; he'd sounded like the frightened kids they'd rescued from one crime scene or another over the years.
Watching his senior field agent panic, he'd decided to give Tony a choice, the choice he'd denied Abby.
"I'll take the whipping."
Tony's word choice made Gibbs raise his eyebrows. It had also very quickly decided the issue of what to spank Tony with, or more precisely, what not to spank him with.
And so he ducked into the bathroom and gave himself a minute to catch his breath; he also grabbed his wooden hairbrush from the drawer. He could spank Tony with his hand, but he had a feeling that Tony would find that humiliating beyond words. The back of the brush seemed a good compromise between his hand and a belt.
And with that brush in hand, he knocked on the guest room door.
When Gibbs came in, Tony couldn't bring himself to look at him. He stared down at the carpet beneath his sock-covered feet.
"Tony?"
Gibbs was using his first name again; he didn't do that so often that Tony was used to it. "Yes, Boss?" he answered warily.
But Gibbs didn't say anything; he was looking at him though, Tony could feel those sharp blue eyes on him. Tony still couldn't bring himself to look up. Instead he fumbled for the belt he'd dropped on the bed. "Here," he said, holding it out.
Gibbs didn't take it. "Put your belt back on."
Surprised, Tony glanced up. He saw a hint of...was that pity? Sympathy? Something lurked in his boss's eyes, and then was gone. Gibbs just nodded, and Tony fumbled to put his belt on.
"Told you I wasn't going to whip you," Gibbs said as Tony buckled the belt.
That's when Tony saw the hairbrush Gibbs held in his hand. His eyes widened; that thing looked lethal. "You're gonna spank me with that?" Tony said, almost disbelieving. He couldn't help but feel relief that Gibbs wasn't going to whip him. It made him flush too; it reminded him a little of when he'd been about six and had hidden from Nanny for hours, as a prank. She hadn't been amused; and neither were the police she'd called in her worry. She'd used a wooden spoon, not a hairbrush, but it was the same concept. And Tony had known without a doubt that it was one punishment of his childhood that he'd truly deserved.
But Gibbs nodded, as though that wasn't the strangest thing ever. "Yep," he said.
"You're serious?" The man looked serious, but Tony couldn't help but ask.
"As a heart attack, DiNozzo. We gonna get this over with, or are you going to keep asking questions?" It wasn't quite exasperation, but it was a decent facsimile.
"Right. Um..." Tony wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself; what did Gibbs want him to do? So he stood there with his hands in his pockets. Another important question occurred to him. "Should I take my pants down?" he asked reluctantly. His father had always insisted on it and would punish him more severely if he tried to get out of it. Was Gibbs going to do that too?
Gibbs shook his head. Tony took a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
He watched Gibbs look around, and take the chair from the desk. Tony's heart rate, which had eased to a near-normal cadence, jumped again, this time from embarrassment. If Gibbs sat down and expected him to go over his knees like Nanny had, Tony was going out the window and to hell with it. His face and ears got so hot, he expected they were turning purple.
Gibbs swung his foot up so it was planted on the seat of the chair. "C'mere," he said, gesturing with that damn hairbrush. "Get this done with."
It wasn't quite what he'd expected Gibbs to do with that chair, but the idea was similar. Tony took a deep breath. Was this worth making a break for the window?
Gibbs gave him a look. It occurred to Tony that if he went out the window, Gibbs could very well follow him. He didn't know if his boss would paddle him out there on the lawn, but he didn't particularly want to find out either. So he took the few steps towards his boss, and Gibbs transferred the brush to his other hand so his right hand was free to touch Tony's shoulder. It was unexpected; Tony had to fight the urge to jump.
"Relax, DiNozzo. It's a spanking; I'm not going to beat the hell out of you," Gibbs said in his usual gruff way.
"Right," Tony said. Very cautiously, he leaned forward with his hands out, trying desperately to keep space between his stomach and his boss's leg. He heard Gibbs sigh and his hand landed on his back and pushed him down. "Right," he muttered again to himself. God. He was going to die of embarrassment.
And then, without further ado, he heard the whoosh of the brush moving through the air, and he sucked in air. Ow!
Grimly, he drew in a breath. SwooshSMACK! Gibbs did not hit like his Nanny, that was for damn sure! This hurt!
He spanked as hard as he figured was feasible; the brush was sturdy and he didn't want to actually injure DiNozzo. He could hear Tony's reactions, could feel how tensely he held himself against Gibbs' leg. It hurt plenty as far as Gibbs could tell.
And Tony had a few words coming his way as well. "I know you're no idiot, no matter how much you try to play one," Gibbs said to the man bent over his leg. "Why the hell would you pull that kind of boneheaded stunt like you did today? You're not a probie; I know you know better than that." He laid down an exceptionally hard smack, and a small squeak came from Tony's lips. "You didn't have to tackle that guy like a linebacker, DiNozzo. Those pictures would guarantee he couldn't keep that kid—"
"And what if we hadn't gotten ahold of a caseworker?" Tony gasped out. Gibbs could hear the pain in his voice. "We'd have—ah!" Tony took a breath in an attempt to push away the pain Gibbs was inflicting on his ass. "We'd have picked up his—ugh—body later!"
"It's not an acceptable risk! You want to lose your job?" Gibbs asked, his voice rising. He stopped spanking for a moment so Tony could answer.
"No sir." Tony's voice was tight.
Gibbs resumed. "Then why the hell would you try to pull off such an obvious set-up? It wasn't even close to subtle, Tony!"
"I was—mmpf—trying to help!" Tony gasped. "Didn't have—" he breathed in sharply "—time to be—ah! Subtle!" He could feel the effort the younger man was exerting, trying not to move or fight. It was making his body shake.
"Yeah? You had time to get yourself and Abby fired, and if Vance had his way, investigated, possibly even sent to prison, and no time to be subtle?" He laid the sarcasm down as heavily as he did the swats. "I completely understand."
He spanked in silence for nearly a minute before he heard a choked noise that he recognized as an attempt to keep back a sob. He was getting close. "You think I want to lose the two of you?"
"N-not Abby," Tony allowed. Gibbs rolled his eyes and smacked DiNozzo nearly full force.
"Not either of you, you knucklehead," he said as DiNozzo jerked. He could hear him sobbing now. "Why do you think I extended this offer to both of you?"
"T-to torture us?" DiNozzo managed to stutter out.
"Always gotta be the smart-ass," Gibbs said. He smacked Tony once more and Tony wailed, throwing his hand back. Enough. He dropped it on the floor but left his hand on Tony's shuddering back. "Because I didn't want to lose my favorites, DiNozzo."
Tony took a deep, gasping breath. He'd heard the thump as the brush hit the floor, and knew the spanking was over. Tears were running down his face, despite his attempts to keep them back.
His mind felt a little broken too. His favorites? He'd always known Abby was Gibbs' favorite, but for him to be included in that? It boggled his mind. "B-b-but..."
"C'mon. Stand up" he said, taking his arm and helping him to stand. Tony dropped his head, trying to hide his teary visage from his boss's eyes. To his relief, Gibbs let him. But he placed his hand on Tony's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "You okay?"
Tony sniffed, considered running his sweater sleeve across his running nose, discarded that idea, and nodded. "I m-m-mean, my ass h-h-hurts more than it h-has s-s-since I was p-p-pledging..." His frat brothers had wielded a mean paddle too, but this had been mentally AND physically taxing.
He looked up in time to see Gibbs bob his head. "Good," he said. "Maybe you'll think instead of pulling such a stupid stunt next time." There was absolutely no remorse in his voice. Tony snorted. What had he expected? This was Gibbs. "Right?" Gibbs prodded pointedly, glancing down at the brush on the floor. It didn't take a genius...
Tony nodded. "Yes, s-sir," he said emphatically.
"Enough of that 'sir' crap," Gibbs replied. "I work for a living, remember?"
"R-right, Boss," he said.
"Better." He saw Gibbs' lips quirk up for half a second. "Get yourself together and come out to the living room. I'm sure Abby's still out there, and she's probably picked a movie." He squeezed Tony's shoulder again, turned and left without another word.
Tony stared after him for a second and finally gave in, wiping the tears and snot off his face. After a moment's hesitation, he also rubbed his sore butt. Jeez! He'd known that the boss could kick his ass for a long while now, but this...was different. He hadn't expected that so much pain could be inflicted with a simple grooming instrument!
He kicked at said instrument that was lying on the floor, sniffed again, and headed for the bathroom to wash his face. He'd never be able to brush his hair without thinking about this ever again. Maybe he should invest in a comb...