Tony looked up at the sound of Gibbs's footsteps on the basement stairs, turning his head towards the living-room door in nervous anticipation. His breath caught in his throat as his boss entered the room. His earlier impatience evaporated. How could he ever have wanted to get this over with? And how could he have been so foolish that he thought this was a good idea in the first place?

Gibbs crossed the room in a couple of strides and sat down on a low ottoman directly in front of Tony, their knees almost touching as he leaned forward.

'Would you care to tell me why you lied to me about something like this, Tony?'

'Not really.'

Silence.

'I don't know, Boss! I can't even say it seemed like a good idea at the time... it didn't... not really. I just figured... I... could get away with it, you know? And a switch really hurts, so...'

The quiet words trailed off.

'And then you continued to lie to me for three years.'

'Because I knew you'd take a switch to me for it, and I was scared.'

'The real reason, Tony.'

Tony looked at him in surprise, and was even more stunned to see the knowing expression on Gibbs's face. The silence stretched out awkwardly before he finally found the words to respond.

'Because I knew you'd never be able to trust me again after that, Boss. I didn't want to be transferred to another team, or packed off to the next police force. And I couldn't stand to lose your respect. I owe you everything, and I didn't want you to know that I'd done something so stupid.'

'So what's changed?'

'Boss?'

'Why did you come to me about this tonight? You could have just kept quiet, and I never would have known what you'd done.'

'Because I can't live a lie, Boss. Not anymore. After Jeanne...' Tony trailed off, not sure how to put into words everything he was feeling. He wasn't even sure himself how much of this was his guilt about lying to Jeanne, and how much of it was his guilt about lying to Gibbs about her. After a long few seconds, he gave up trying to explain, and simply moved on. 'I need to make things right with you, Boss. For everything. And if I can't do that, if you can't forgive me... then I'll just have to accept that. But I can't keep lying to you.'

Gibbs didn't say anything right away, and Tony shifted nervously in his seat, waiting breathlessly to hear his fate.

'You're right, Tony.'

His heart stopped.

'This is big.'

Tony somehow forced himself to meet his boss's eyes. If he was going to be fired, told that Gibbs didn't want him in his life anymore, he'd take it like a man, at least.

There was something inscrutable in Gibbs's eyes. Disappointment... anger... and something else. It reminded Tony of that self-satisfied expression his boss sometimes wore, after one of his gut instincts had been confirmed. But it couldn't be that.

'You lied to me. You made me think I had punished you in a way you found traumatic. You avoided further punishment by playing on my concern for your well-being. You used my affection for you, to manipulate me.'

Gibbs paused, and Tony looked down at his knees, suddenly unable to face the man he had betrayed.

'But I don't think it was malice on your part, Tony. Or even just opportunism. I think you were testing me, whether you realised it at the time or not. You wanted to know if I really cared enough about you to make a promise like that, and to keep it. I'm disappointed that you thought you had to betray my trust, to find out whether you could really trust me. And I'm disappointed that you thought you had to keep lying to me.'

His father had called him 'a disappointment' more often than he could remember. The words had always carried the sting of rejection, had always meant that he wasn't good enough, wasn't enough like his father, to be worthy of his love or attention. As a small child, he'd cried, promised to try harder, to be what his father wanted him to be; later, he'd pretended that he didn't care that his father couldn't love him for who he was.

Hearing those words from his boss made his blood run cold. It wasn't often that anything about how Gibbs treated him reminded him of his father. And when it did, it was always, like now, the contrast that affected him most. Because even though the words were virtually identical, the meaning behind them couldn't be more different. He wasn't sure how, but Tony knew without a doubt that Gibbs didn't mean the words as code for 'you aren't the son I wanted'. Gibbs meant just what he'd said; Tony had let him down.

Tony's stomach twisted. For the first time, he really understood why 'I'm disappointed in you, son' was considered such a gut-wrenching line in those old movies. And the stark reminder that the boss he had deceived for so long was more of a father to him than anything he'd known as a child made him feel even worse about what he'd done.

And he recognised himself in the suggestion that some part of him had been wondering if Gibbs had really meant it when he'd asked Tony if he was uncomfortable with how he disciplined him, and when he'd agreed not to use a switch on him again. Gibbs's ability to see right through him, to understand him even when he didn't understand himself, made him feel like his heart had been ripped out.

'C'mon, son. Let's take care of this, and put it behind us.'

Tony tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He nodded awkwardly, too overwhelmed by everything Gibbs had said to fully appreciate the significance of his last statement, and barely processing the fact that the time had come for him to take his punishment.

Slowly, he got to his feet.

'Pants down.'

He wasn't surprised; he remembered Gibbs's order the last time he'd used a switch to punish him. His hands moved hesitantly to his buckle, and he fumbled to undo his belt and lower his trousers to his knees. He paused and looked questioningly at Gibbs, who still hadn't moved from his seat on the ottoman. When he didn't say anything, Tony decided to leave his boxers on, at least until he was told otherwise.

Hobbled by the lowered trousers, he began to shuffle awkwardly towards the end of the couch, planning to position himself over the over-stuffed arm. Gibbs stopped him with a gentle command. Tony looked around, confused, not seeing anywhere else his boss could put him, and realising with a surge of panic that he would never be able to stay in position if Gibbs wanted him in an old-fashioned grab-your-ankles stance... not with a switch.

'Come here, Tony.'

Gibbs still hadn't moved.

At first Tony didn't realise what Gibbs had in mind. Then, with a shock of recognition, he understood. He stood frozen in place, unable to comply, unable to imagine complying. Gibbs obviously saw the understanding behind his horrified expression, and didn't bother to explain where he wanted him.

'This is personal, Tony. You lying to me had nothing to do with work. You betrayed my trust. I'm not punishing you as your boss, and I want you to remember that.

Tony opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, as unable to reply as he was to move.

'This is going to happen, Tony. How long we wait, is up to you.'

He closed his eyes, his heart racing and his breathing ragged. He had no idea how much time passed before he peered tentatively through a half-closed eyelid, finding Gibbs unmoved, watching him calmly.

'It's ok, Tony. Whenever you're ready.'

Ready? How would he ever be ready for this?

Somehow, he forced one foot in front of the other and managed to get to Gibbs's side before hesitating again. Another long moment passed before he lowered himself clumsily, manoeuvring himself into position. He felt Gibbs's arm across his waist, tugging him slightly in one direction before closing around him in what felt like half-restraint, half-embrace.

Tony blinked back the tears that threatened to spill, refusing to cry before Gibbs even picked up the switch.

A moment later he felt a burst of pain spread across his thinly-clad backside. But, instead of an intense, biting sting, it was a duller, more diffuse pain that settled quickly into an unpleasant tingling warmth. It definitely hurt... but it wasn't nearly as bad as what he'd expected. He realised with a rush of surprise and gratitude that Gibbs wasn't using the switch.

After only a few strokes, the pain had built to a steady, throbbing burn. As he choked back a whimper, he suddenly wondered what Gibbs was using. There hadn't been anything obvious lying around the room while he'd been waiting, other than the switch, and he hadn't noticed anything in his boss's hand when he came in.

An uneasiness started to grow within him. He told himself that this couldn't actually be happening. Finally, needing reassurance that his concern was unfounded, he twisted as far as he could and looked frantically over his shoulder.

He saw, to his horror, that Gibbs's hand was empty. Tony sobbed and struggled to escape.

But Gibbs held him firmly in place, and the spanking continued inexorably.

Tony's mind struggled to process the fact that he was actually lying across his boss's lap, and being spanked with his hand. Gibbs had punished him before, more often than he could count, but never remotely like this. He had been prepared for the physical pain of being whipped with a switch, but the emotional experience of an over-the-knee spanking was completely unexpected.

This was so much more personal, intimate, even. And the closeness, the feel of his boss's body against his own, his arm at once holding him in place and providing the comfortable warmth of human contact, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His father had never used his hand to spank him; there was always some impersonal implement that prevented any actual contact. And he'd certainly never put him over his lap like this; that would have meant touching him far too much. His initial dismay when he'd realised that Gibbs wanted him in this position had been because he'd thought it would be embarrassing. He discovered instead that the humiliation of being punished like a naughty child was outweighed by the emotional impact of the fact that Gibbs was treating him exactly as if he really were his son.

The pain continued to build. Physically, it wasn't nearly as bad as what he was used to getting, but it still hurt. A lot. He didn't understand how a bare hand could hurt so much, and the realisation that his boss's hand must also be stinging made him sob even harder, the idea that Gibbs had chosen a means of punishing him that meant enduring pain himself adding to the devastating psychological effect of the punishment.

He dimly realised that Gibbs hadn't stopped after the dozen strokes that usually marked the upper limit of his spankings. He had no idea how many he'd already endured, or how much more he would have to take. He already felt more vulnerable than usual; even though he knew that bending over the couch was, physically, as much of a submission, being over Gibbs's knee like this felt like a more profound acceptance of his mentor's discipline. Now, without even the limited comfort of counting down the remaining strokes, the last vestiges of any sense of control evaporated. He was utterly helpless.

He cried openly, losing all sense of time, of anything outside of this experience. He was aware of nothing except the pain, and his connection to the man inflicting it.

Finally, it stopped.

Tony continued to sob freely, making no effort to move. His ass was blazing, and he felt emotionally drained. Gibbs held him in place over his lap, rubbing his back soothingly. When his hitched breathing became calmer, he gently tipped him back into a kneeling position.

Tony wiped at his eyes and tried to shuffle backwards. Gibbs's hands were still resting lightly on his shoulders, but he expected the contact to be severed easily. Instead, to his astonishment, Gibbs pulled him into a firm hug. Tony struggled against the embrace, too surprised and embarrassed to accept the comfort offered him. But Gibbs merely tightened his hold on the struggling younger man, cradling his head against his chest and pulling him close.

'It's ok, Tony. I've got you.'

Tony continued to resist for a moment longer, but Gibbs wouldn't let go. He'd been so sure that Gibbs was going to wash his hands of him, and instead he'd given him a deeply personal spanking and now was hugging him. He felt overwhelmed by the unmistakeable message that Gibbs wasn't abandoning him. Finally he relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the unexpected comfort of his mentor's arms around him.

He wasn't sure how long it was before Gibbs finally spoke.

'I'm proud of you, Tony.'

He pulled away enough to look up at Gibbs in shock. He had been hoping to be told that he was forgiven, or that he might regain his boss's trust. But to hear that he was proud of him, after what he'd done? He didn't understand.

'Boss?'

'You could have got away with this one. If you continued with the pretence, there's really not much chance I'd ever know it was a lie. And yet you chose to come to me. That's big, too, Tony. And this is the first time you've asked me to punish you. That says a lot about the man you are, and that matters more now than anything you did three years ago.'

Tony didn't reply, not trusting his voice as he looked up at Gibbs with watery eyes. Gibbs ruffled his hair and patted his shoulder before getting to his feet and extending a hand to Tony. Tony stood up shakily, his knees stiff from kneeling so long, and pulled his trousers up over his aching butt with a wince.

'Go on upstairs, Tony. The spare room is made up.'

'I should just go…'

'Tony, it's late, you've been through a lot, and you're in no shape to drive.'

'I'm fine, Gibbs. I'll see you tomor…'

'Upstairs! NOW!'

Tony knew better than to challenge that tone of voice, so he headed for the stairs. He paused on the landing, and turned to look down at the man who was watching him from the hallway.

'G'night, Boss.'

'Good night, son.'