WWGD?

Summary: Tony's role as Agent Afloat takes an unexpected turn. 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 takes place between Judgement Day and Last Man Standing.

'You've got to be kidding me!' Tony thought, following the tell-tale odour into a relatively isolated corner of a deck that should be deserted at this hour.

The sailor leaning over the railing was young, and the lack of a tan suggested he was one of the new crew members who'd come aboard only that morning. At the sound of his footsteps, he spun around, somehow managing to look both panic-stricken and embarrassed at the same time. He didn't even have the presence of mind to drop the joint into the ocean, destroying the evidence.

'Oh, shit! I mean, sorry, Sir...' the kid stammered. 'I don't usually... I mean, it's just... my brother gave me... he said it would help... with the seasickness, I mean...'

Tony cut off the babbling with an impatient wave of his hand and looked him over critically. He'd had enough experience with McGee's reaction to anything floating – this kid didn't look particularly bothered by the ship's motion.

'You don't appear to be seasick, Seaman Richardson,' he commented dryly, glancing quickly at the kid's nametag.

'Oh, I'm not, Sir,' Richardson replied earnestly. 'But I brought it because I thought I might be... and I didn't see any reason to waste it...'

The kid unconsciously raised the joint to his lips, blushing deeply when he realised what he was doing.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, snatching it from him, stubbing it out on the railing, and reaching into a pocket for an ever-present evidence bag. He'd only come out here because he wanted some fresh air before heading to bed, and it was someplace where he could usually be alone for a few minutes. He really didn't want to be dealing with this crap, especially since his day had started before dawn.

'Ok, c'mon,' he ordered, grabbing the kid by an arm and steering him in the direction of his office.

'You're turning me in?' Richardson squawked. 'C'mon, man... don't tell the...'

'This is your unlucky day, kid. I'm the Agent Afloat...'

'Oh, shit! My first day on my first ship and I'm already fucking it up...'

Tony didn't reply. The kid was getting off to a spectacularly bad start.

'Malcolm is going to kill me...'

'Malcolm?'

'My brother...'

Tony bit back a comment about Malcolm's right to be upset, when he'd provided the marijuana in the first place.

'Our parents died in a car accident last year. He took a year off from college, came home... so I could finish high school. My grades weren't good enough for a scholarship, so...'

Richardson babbled for a bit longer before trailing off, finally falling silent. Tony got the sense that he wasn't looking for sympathy, really. The kid just hadn't had anyone he could talk to for too long.

They stepped into the brighter light of the corridor, and he realised he'd been right in his initial assessment. This sailor was young. And he didn't have the slightly cocky look of most of the delinquents who passed through his office. This was just a kid who'd picked a really bad place to do something dumb.

It wasn't long before they reached his cubby-hole of an office.

Ah, kid... he thought, ushering a morose Richardson through the door. What am I going to do with you?