WARNING: Contains spanking of an adult.

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. I just borrow them.

"Grab your gear. Dead Private in Roslyn."

"You sure he's not in Rock Creek Park, Boss?"

"No, DiNozzo, she is not."

* * * * *

"McGee, measurements. DiNozzo, sketch and shoot. David, witness statements." Gibbs handed out assignments and started to walk away.

"Witness statements? How do you know there were witnesses? We just got here." Tony asked.

Gibbs stopped mid-step and turned around slowly with a not-unexpected glare. "Private Marin had coffee with her roommate this morning at that coffee shop right there, which means she died in broad daylight right here. Somebody saw something."

"Sorry we're late, Jethro," Ducky called. "Mr. Palmer's navigation skills have not improved in all the time he's worked for me. Lucky for him, he possesses other valuable skills."

"Doctor, it is not my fault that the city only labels side-streets. You would think it would be just as important to know what street you're on, wouldn't it?"

Half an hour later:

"Hey McMetric, how long does it take to measure a scene? I finished sketching and taking pictures five minutes ago," Tony taunted. He jumped up on a low wall and started walking back and forth, repeatedly pretending to lose his balance.

"You could help, you know," Tim shot back.

"Nah! I'd rather just stand up here and make fun of you," Tony shrugged.

"DiNozzo!! Get down from there and finish shooting!" Gibbs yelled.

"I'm done, Boss."

"I don't think so. We need wide shots from every corner. And get in one of those buildings to get an aerial. Do I really need to tell you how to do your job?"

"Uh, no Boss. I'm good," Tony said sheepishly.

"I'll be the judge of that," Gibbs grumbled and turned back to Ducky and Palmer. "What do you got Duck?"

"No outward signs of trauma, no petechial hemorrhaging…"

"DiNozzo!! NOW!"

"I'm going, I'm going." Tony walked across the top of the wall, but just as he got to the end, he lost his balance – for real this time – and fell off.

"I'm going to kill him," Gibbs groaned. "DiNozzo, get up and get those damn photos!" He turned back to Ducky and was about to ask him to continue when he heard Tony call over to him.

"Um, Boss? I've got a problem here."

Gibbs looked back at his senior field agent who was sitting on the ground next to the wall. Tony held up his hand to reveal a nail sticking straight through his palm and out the back.

* * * * *

"Agent DiNozzo, when was the last time you had a tetanus shot?" Dr. Abrams asked as he finished wrapping the bandage around Tony's hand.

"Uh, I don't know, Doc. Maybe, 1984 when my friend Andy stapled my fingers together," Tony answered, holding up his other hand and twisting his wrist to show some tiny scars on his fingers.

Dr. Abrams grinned at him. "Hmm, I'll be right back."

"Oh, Doc, I really don't think that's necessary…" Tony said as the doctor retreated.

"How is he, Doc?" Gibbs asked as Dr. Abrams stepped out of the room.

"He's fine, Agent Gibbs. The nail only went through flesh; didn't hit anything so there's no permanent damage. I got the nail out and bandaged him up, but he needs a tetanus shot before I let him go."

"A tetanus shot, huh?" Gibbs asked grimly. "Do me a favor?"

Dr. Abrams studied Gibbs' grinning face for a moment and then understood. "I take it Agent DiNozzo's accident was preventable?" Gibbs nodded. "Not a problem."

* * * * *

"All right Agent DiNozzo, here we go," Dr. Abrams said cheerfully as he walked into the room holding a vial and a needle. "Why don't you hop down from there and turn around for me?"

"Uh, Doc, can't you just put it in my arm?"

"Nope. It needs to go in a large muscle. Come on, let's go."

Tony sighed and pushed himself off the table. Shaking his head, he turned around, and after another moment of hesitation, pushed his pants down a bit. A few seconds later, he felt the doctor swab his butt cheek with an alcohol pad and then a sharp sting as the needle went in.

"Ow!"

"There we go. All done. Your hand should be as good as new in about a week, but if it gets red and swollen, I want you to get back in here immediately, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Tony said, pulling his pants back into place with a wince. "Thanks."

Dr. Abrams put his hand on Tony's shoulder and steered him out of the exam room, straight in front of a waiting Gibbs. "He's all yours."

"Thanks, Doc," Gibbs said with a wink. Tony did not like that wink one little bit. "All right, Tony. Let's get you home." Gibbs put his hand where the doctor's had been just a few seconds earlier and took over the steering.

Tony swallowed nervously, "Um, whose home?" When Gibbs didn't answer, Tony's shoulders sagged and his head dropped.

* * * * *

"Upstairs," Gibbs ordered as he led Tony into the house.

"Boss," Tony whined.

"Now, Tony," Gibbs answered in that scary, warning tone with which Tony was all too familiar.

Sighing, he clomped up the stairs to the guest room, wondering what instrument of torture his boss would be carrying when he joined him. He listened for the tell-tale footsteps on the basement steps, but he didn't hear them. Instead, he heard what sounded like a kitchen drawer opening and then closing again. "Oh no," he groaned.

A few seconds later, he heard Gibbs coming up the stairs. When his boss walked into the room, Tony didn't even have to look to know what he was carrying. But he did and his fear was confirmed.

"Really?" he said, still whining. "Don't you think I've had enough for one day?" He knew the argument was futile, but he had to try.

Gibbs stood silently and waited until Tony met and held his gaze. Then, gesturing with the wretched wooden spoon in his hand, he asked, "Do we even need to talk about why you're getting this?" Tony looked at him pleadingly. Gibbs dropped his hand to his side and tilted his head, giving Tony a weary look. "Tony, I shouldn't have to tell you how to do your job," he said almost gently. "And I certainly shouldn't have to do it twice."

Tony sighed resignedly. "Yeah, I know." He shook his head, clearly annoyed with himself, and turned toward the bed.

"Drop 'em," Gibbs ordered quietly.

"Saw that one coming," Tony answered. He slowly pushed his pants down to his knees, but left his boxers in place and glanced over his shoulder at Gibbs. He thought he saw a grin flash across Gibbs' face.

"Fine," he acquiesced. "Bend over."

Tony got into position, resting on his elbows – partly because he knew it was expected, and partly because his hand hurt too much to lean on it.

"Which side got the shot?" Gibbs asked.

"Left. Wait!" Tony said standing up and wheeling around to look at Gibbs, his eyes wide in realization. "You told the doctor to give me the shot in my butt," he said accusingly. This time, there was no doubt that Gibbs grinned. "I can't believe you'd do something that devious! Actually, yeah, I can," he finished with a another sigh. He shook his head in awe as Gibbs' eyes twinkled mischievously then turned around and got back into position. "You're mean," he said, grinning ruefully as he stared at the wall in front of him.

"Yup," Gibbs said. His hand landed firmly on Tony's back and a second later, the spoon landed sharply on his right butt cheek. Not surprisingly, his boxers offered only negligible protection from the spanking that rained down on the cheek that, until a few seconds ago, wasn't already sore. By the time Gibbs finished, Tony decided that there was not a single situation – life, death or otherwise – that would ever convince him to sit down again. And the full effects of the shot hadn't even set in yet.

The spoon landed softly on the bed next to his head and he felt Gibbs squeeze his shoulder. "I don't know what got into you today, but if you ever act like that in the field again, I will take my belt to you every day for a week," he promised firmly, but gently. "Clear?"

"I got it, Boss," Tony answered shakily, his voice betraying the tears he'd managed to fight back while Gibbs spanked him.

"All right," Gibbs said with a final pat on Tony's shoulder, "come on downstairs when you're ready and we'll get some dinner. By the way," he added as he walked out the door, "you really ought to keep your shots up to date."

Tony pushed himself off the bed, pulled his pants up, and headed to the bathroom to wash his face. Curiosity got the best of him. He lowered his pants and boxers to check the damage in the mirror. The redness of his right cheek stood in stark contrast to the whiteness of the left. Gibbs had, as usual, done a very thorough job.

* * * * *

Tony and Gibbs shared a pizza and a basketball game in the living room after Gibbs had finally managed to convince Tony that he wouldn't die if he sat on the soft couch. The next day, however, it was all Gibbs could do not to laugh every time he looked at Tony leaning over his desk to work, absolutely refusing to even look at his chair. After a while, he mercifully sent him on some errands, including a trip to get some painkillers from Ducky to take the edge off the deep pain the shot had left.

"Are you all right, my dear boy?" Ducky asked kindly when Tony limped into autopsy. Tony looked at him with big, green, puppy dog eyes, milking the good doctor's sympathy for all he was worth.

"Can I ask you something?" Tony asked, his voice bordering on a whine.

"Of course."

"Does a tetanus shot really have to go…you know…?"

Ducky looked confused for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. "I suspect Jethro had a word with your doctor," he said with a laugh.

"He did," Tony confirmed.

"And," Ducky asked hesitantly, "did he also have 'a word' with you?" Tony nodded, once again looking as sad as possible, hoping to garner some more sympathy. Ducky put his hand on the back of Tony's head and pulled him close. "You know you deserved that, don't you?" He patted Tony's cheek as a small, reluctant grin broke out on the young man's face. "I'll get you some ibuprofen."

Tony accepted the two pills gratefully. "Thanks, Ducky. I'd better get back upstairs." He turned and walked toward the door.

"You know, Tony," Ducky said as he walked away, "you really ought to keep your shots up to date."