Just Wait

Summary: Gibbs is away from the office. A case comes in. Tony is in charge. Warning: spanking of adult. Don't like? Don't read!

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just play with them.

A/N: This is part of my 'Lessons' series and builds on a larger plot arc. This was inspired by a comment draggon-flye made about another work-in-progress. My Muse decided that this plot bunny was more interesting at the moment.

Warning: this story contains the non-sexual spanking of an adult. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.

Tony looked around the crime scene, trying not to chortle too gleefully. After all, a Marine was dead. Taking too much pleasure in being in charge of the investigation would be unseemly.

It wasn't as if there would be much of an investigation, anyway. A Marine who had been suffering from PTSD since returning from Iraq, dead of a gunshot wound to the head, his service weapon lying just inches away from the body? In the house that had belonged to his grandparents, where he had spent what was probably the only happy times in his troubled childhood? Yeah, it didn't take much investigating to figure out what had happened here.

Still, until Ducky actually said that it was suicide, it was an active case.

And with Gibbs away at some top-secret security briefing with the whole alphabet soup, it was his active case.

Not that he was taking undue advantage of his authority or anything. It was hardly unreasonable for him to have sent Tim back out to the car to fetch the back-up camera after the first one had inexplicably decided that it didn't want to work today. After all, he was the agent in charge of the scene, and Tim was the probie. That's what probies were for.

Tony cast another look around the room, thinking yet again how much the whole abandoned, empty house thing reminded him of far too many horror movies. All this place needed was some creepy music and a ghost or two. And remembering McGee's hesitation earlier about making their way through the deserted, creaking rooms, he didn't think he was the only one wondering just what they'd find.

Hearing the heavy back door of the truck slam shut and imagining Tim warily making his way inside, he was struck with inspiration. A few stealthy steps carried him almost noiselessly across the room. Gingerly easing a door open, he slipped inside the large closet. He pulled the door shut mere seconds before he heard Tim reach the top of the stairs. Holding his breath, he waited.


Tim reached the top of the creaky old staircase and headed towards the small bedroom where Lance Corporal Lancaster's body was lying. His eyes still hadn't entirely adjusted to the dim light that filtered through the dirty skylight in the hall, but he didn't bother turning on a flashlight. He didn't really need it to manage the few feet of hallway, and there was more than enough light from the window in the bedroom itself.

He didn't pay much attention to the slight creaking behind him. It was an old house that had been empty for years. If he freaked out every time a board settled somewhere, he'd never hear the end of it from Tony. The jokes about the haunted crime scene were bad enough. He really didn't need...


The loud shriek right in his ear and the hand suddenly descending on his shoulder were enough to jar him into a frenzy of action. After all, he was a trained federal agent, and he'd spent enough time sparring with a certain gruff former Marine. He didn't even have to think about how to react to an unexpected rear attack. His instincts kicked in and his body responded without waiting for his brain to catch up with what was happening.


Tony blinked up at the ceiling.

When the hell did Probie's reflexes get so good?