Fic: And It Was a Dream And It Was a Fantasy 8/?
Title: Appreciated
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Spoiler: None
Disclaimer: Not mine but I appreciate the opportunity to manipulate them on occasion.
Summary: Too little, too late
McGee had mastered the art of ungluing his fingers from his keyboard without help and had reached a personal best time of just under three minutes. Only those who weren’t familiar with their team would wonder why he kept a full bottle of finger nail polish remover and travel pack of Q-Tips in his top desk drawer.
“Really, Tony?” Tim spat out the Q-Tip in his mouth. “This is the third time in a month you’ve glued my fingers to my keyboard. “What is going on with you?”
“What makes you think it was me this time, Probie?” Tony smiled but mirth never reached his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the wallpaper that popped up when I booted up my computer that said ‘Now you’re stuck on me, McSugarland’ was a hint.”
“Stupid song - it is your fault. Shouldn’t have been humming it the other day. I actually had to go to Abby’s lab and ask her to play something by Brain Matter to get that song out of my head. And then I had to down half a bottle of ibuprofen to get rid of the headache that came along with it. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“When you ever grow up?” Ziva inserted herself in the conversation.
“Hopefully, never!” Tony queued up a spit ball and launched it at her just as Gibbs came around the corner. His target blocked briefly, the projectile hit Gibbs squarely in the side of his neck.
In that second, Tony wished for death, the immediate, instantaneous, and permanent kind. The kind that made people dress in black though it was 100 degrees outside if they knew you well or buy flowers if they vaguely remembered you from school He briefly wondered whom or if anyone would show up and really hoped his will was updated.
Silence fell over the bullpen as Gibbs lifted his hand to his neck and wiped the offending spit ball away. He glanced over to McGee, seeing him furiously trying to unglue his fingers with a Q-Tip in his mouth.
Tim looked up having finally realized the quiet that had fallen in the room and watched as Gibbs flicked the spit ball into the nearest trash can.
He stepped over to Tim who spit out the Q-Tip. He spoke quietly in his ear. “What is going on, McGee?”
“I don’t know, Boss.” McGee spoke as quietly as Gibbs had. “You gotta do something though. This is the third time I’ve been glued to my keyboard this month!”
“Well, you should start looking before you start typing. What is the matter with DiNozzo?”
“I don’t know, Boss. I think he’s feeling underappreciated, ignored. You really haven’t had a kind word to say to him in the past couple of months and haven’t even head slapped him that I’ve witnessed in I don’t know how long. I think he just wants your attention.”
“My attention?” Gibbs furrowed his brow. “Am I running a daycare center here?” His voice boarded on threatening.
“N-no, you aren’t, but you know how Tony gets.”
Gibbs stepped back and nodded.
“Gonna go see Ducky.” With that, Gibbs left the bullpen.
Tony was pale as he slumped in his chair. Any delayed reaction from Gibbs would turn into a calculated reaction and that would be worse. He had to make sure his affairs were in order.
~~~~~~~~~~NCIS~~~~~~~~~~
The doors to autopsy swished open and Ducky turned in surprise. “Jethro! How nice to see you but I don’t have anything for you, I’m afraid.”
“I know, Duck. Need some advice.” Gibbs hoisted himself onto an empty table.
“What can I do for you?”
“McGee got his fingers glued to his keyboard again.”
“Oh dear - did you…”
“Yeah, Duck - he keeps polish remover and Q-Tips in his drawer now.”
“I see. So…”
“I got hit with a spit ball.”
Ducky’s eyes widened, “Surely...”
“I wasn’t the target, but something is going on with Tony. Has he talked to you?”
“No, nothing other than regarding cases, I assure you.” Ducky looked perplexed then his facial feature relaxed.
“What, Duck?”
“When is the last time you acknowledged his contribution to the team or at the very least, head slapped him?”
“What?”
“The dear boy needs your attention, Jethro. He is acting out to make sure you see him among the others. The head slaps though unconventional, are a sign of affection to him. They show him you are paying attention and expect the best from him.”
“I expect the best from all of them.”
“Yes, I know, but Anthony needs you to tell him and as you are affectionately known as the “Functional Mute”, you need to show him.”
“He just needs to do his job.”
“And he does, but he needs your recognition as well. He needs to know you see what he is doing and approve - or disapprove. He doesn’t exist well in limbo for very long. Pay some attention to him. Let him know you appreciate him, or help him improve.”
“I do appreciate him; he’s the best SFA I ever had.”
“Tell him or show him, Jethro. That’s all he needs.”
Gibbs slid off the table and walked toward the door. “Thanks, Duck.”
~~~~~~~~~~NCIS~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs stepped out the elevator in time to see the paper wad fly towards McGee’s desk.
“Tony, damn it! Stop already!” McGee was beyond frustrated.
“DiNOZZO! With me!” Gibbs’ voice rang through the room.
Tony let out a squeak and he got up from his desk and walked towards Gibbs who was walking toward him. Gibbs grabbed him by the bicep and steered him toward the corner beneath the stairway to the mezzanine.
“What is your problem?”
“Boss?”
“Why are you antagonizing McGee and David? What is in your head?”
“Sorry, Boss.”
No, not ‘Sorry, Boss.’ Tony, talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say?” The look on his face told Gibbs he was shutting down. He could almost see the walls going up.
“I want to know what you are thinking.”
“’m not.
“Could have guessed that much. Get your head back in the game, DiNozzo!”
The accompanying headslap wasn’t much of a surprise. “On it, Boss!”
The rest of the day was spent working on leads for the stacks of cold cases in each of their desks. Quitting time was never more welcome.
Gibbs’ barked “0800 hours, don’t be late!” signified the end of a long day without an active case.
Everyone scrambled to gather his or her gear and head out the door before the dismissal was retracted.
“DiNozzo! Wait - the rest of you, GO!”
Tony waited until the elevator doors closed before walking up to Gibbs’ desk, “Yeah, Boss?” The defeated tone of his voice and the slumping of his shoulders told Gibbs everything he needed to know.
“1900 hours, my house. Don’t be late.”
Sighing heavily he said, “Yes, Boss.”
~~~~~~~~~~NCIS~~~~~~~~~~
Gibbs paced in his kitchen; he paced in the living room and even paced in the basement. He had no idea what to do, what to expect or even if this was the right way to handle the situation. All he knew was something was amiss with his SFA and he had to fix it, and soon. They couldn’t be called on a case when Tony was so far off the mark like this. He had to get him back on track but he didn’t have any idea what was wrong - why he was so distracted and so distracting to the others.
When Tony appeared at 1859 hours, Gibbs was in his basement and absentmindedly picked up the nearest tool to look as if he were working on his project rather than wringing his hands over what to do. He had to convey the presence of authority which was something he could do without thinking even when he was self-doubting.
“Boss?” Tony called as he wandered into the inter-sanctum of Gibbs’ private world.
Something was definitely amiss because in other times, Tony would never have hesitated to bound down the stairs and sit like the well-trained St. Bernard he was.
Tony still sat on his designated stair step as if all was normal. Gibbs continued to fiddle with his tool and the project seemingly ignoring Tony until he could get the younger man to bite.
After a few minutes, Tony cleared his throat. “Any particular reason you needed to see me, Boss? Am I being fired?”
“Any reason you should be, DiNozzo?”
Tony fidgeted. “Yeah, probably.”
“Probably?”
“More than probably, I guess.” He stood and turned toward the top of the stairs. “Thanks for trying, Gibbs.”
As he started his ascent, Gibbs barked, “Hey!” Tony turned to look at him, the utter defeat in his eyes stunned Gibbs if just for a moment. “Not finished. Sit.” He pointed to the sawhorse near him.
Reluctantly Tony descended the steps and sat on the sawhorse as ordered.
“You OK, Tony?”
Tony just stared at him. “Of course, Boss. Never better.” He made a move to get up. “Sit! Gibbs tone left no room for dispute.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Other than you just fired me? Nothing, Boss, er - former Boss. Gibbs.”
“I didn’t fire you. Talk to me, DiNozzo.”
“’bout what?”
“Damn it!” Gibbs head slapped him harder than ever before.
Tony’s eyes clouded over and his body went stiff. “Is that all, Sir?”
Gibbs watched it all like a movie being played out before his eyes. He never would have hit his SFA, the man he trusted more than anyone, like that, even if it was warranted but he was beyond frustrated. This was not turning out as he planned. “Tony…”
Tony ascended the steps, heading out of the basement door and most assuredly, out of his life.
He ran up the stairs behind him and caught him before he reached the front door, grabbing his arm. “Tony, don’t. I never meant to…”
“Let go, Gibbs.” Tony’s voice was low and menacing. He turned away reaching for the knob on the front door.
“STOP!” On instinct, Tony’s body froze at the command. Gibbs turned him around to face him and not knowing what else to do, kissed him. And in that kiss he told him the story of two people torn apart by circumstances beyond their control and by their own ridiculous fail safes. It was a tale of two that had been thrust together and taught to love and respect one another and dear God in Heaven did he love him.
Pulling back for air, Gibbs rested his forehead against Tony’s, gasping, “You make me crazy, you know that? And I’m sorry; I’m sorry for not showing you how much I appreciate you. I’m sorry for being such a bastard towards you.”
Tony looked at him, his own breathing finally reaching a normal pattern, “Just ten minutes ago I would have forgiven you for anything and everything. But no one, not even you, touches me in anger.” He held Gibbs’ face gently in his hands and kissed him softly. “Your timing sucks.” Tony turned and opened the door, “My resignation will be on your desk first thing in the morning”. He walked out softly closing the door behind him.