Reaction
Title: Reaction
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1202
Warnings: Angst
Authors Note: I needed to get this out after last week. It's like been stuck in my head, and then this weeks total ignore of what happened...well I dunno. I needed to just throw this up and deal with it, then go back to writing my less depressing fics. =D
It was common knowledge Gibbs never locked his door, what wasn't as well known was that he wasn't that vigilant about keeping his blinds shut either. Which was how Tony had seen The Kiss; standing at the base of the porch steps, bags of cheap takeout in both hands as per usual, and wishing he'd listened to Gibbs and just gone straight back to his apartment. But he'd been worried, and Tony wasn't good at sitting somewhere alone knowing that someone he loved was in pain. And Tony was in love with Gibbs, which was why watching that kiss had taken the place of his first rejection as number two on his Top Ten Worst Moments Ever.
Tony supposed he should have seen it coming; he'd let the Probie and Ziva think his obsession with watching Gibbs interview/interrogate Hart had something to do with it being amusing or action packed or any number of other things. But in reality, Tony had been around the block more than once and he'd seen the sparks, he wasn't stupid. Allison Hart might not be a redhead but she was one tough lady and Gibbs had always made it clear he liked tough girls, far more than he liked scrappy cops with too much charm.
So no Tony shouldn't be surprised, but he still was. They'd never actually said the words, but Tony had really thought that Gibbs loved him. He'd believed in that fact in a way he'd never believed in something before, and now he was going to have to deal with that.
Tony wasn't sure how he'd gotten back to his apartment, he knew he didn't have the take out bags anymore and he'd briefly wondered what had happened to them. But in the end it didn't matter, not really.
He sat on his couch for a long time, numb to the world. A part of him supposed he should call an old buddy and go to a bar and get really really drunk, then find someone to fuck until it didn't hurt anymore; it was how he'd dealt with most of his problems in life. But...it was a Tuesday, he had work in the morning, and if he showed up looking like shit Gibbs would kill him. So Tony didn't. He just kept sitting there, absentmindedly thinking he should sleep.
Tony almost wished he'd told Gibbs at least once that is wasn't just casual for him. They'd talked about everything else, so Tony had made the mistake of assuming Gibbs understood. That Gibbs felt the same way. But apparently he'd been wrong.
Tony didn't sleep that night.
Wednesday had been full of paperwork so Tony being half dead didn't matter work wise. Not that things got any better in the light of day; Gibbs wouldn't even look at him, never mind talk to him. And in a way Tony was both disappointed and pleased by that.
On one hand Tony hated ambiguity, he'd dealt with it for so long from his father that he preferred to keep his relationships straightforward and simple; the one exception hadn't been his idea and had turned out to be a gigantic cluster-fuck so the Jeanne thing had only reenforced his rule. You were either a friend (like Abby), a fuck buddy (like one of the many faceless women he'd sleptwith in his youth), or you were Gibbs.
On the other hand Tony never wanted Gibbs to give him that look, the one he'd seen on too many girls faces when he'd almost gotten serious about them, that special mixture of contempt, pity, and exasperation. He didn't want to know Gibbs had just enjoyed the sex, he didn't want to think about how easy it had been for Gibbs to make it clear that he'd moved on, and he certainly didn't want to see the only person he'd ever actually let in since he was a kid prove to him that the world really was the fucked up.
So they never did talk about it that day, there was just this deep silence between the two of them. Ziva and Tim didn't notice, but Tony was sure Ducky or Abby had. He didn't think they'd figure it out before he got his emotions back on track. Tony just needed to survive until the weekend, until he could figure something out to make pain in his chest ease up.
Thursday was just as bad, if not worse since Gibbs had gone back to business as usual and Tony found it harder to deal with Gibbs snapping at him when Tony hadn't gotten more than 4 hours of sleep the night before and still had that damn stabbing pain in his chest. Abby kept sending him significant looks and trying to get him to come down to her lab, but Tony didn't want pity so he continually avoided her, he also wasn't all that sure how she'd react. Tim figured out something was up at around noon, but he was even easier to deflect than Abby.
Friday was finally there and Tony really just wanted to leave when Ziva finally figured out something was up, and cornered him in the men's bathroom. Again. He hated it when she did that. He also found it a bit of a waste of time since neither of them had much to say. He'd been very relieved when the end of the day had finally came and he was on his way out to his car.
He hadn't counted on Ducky being there at his car, gazing at him with sad understanding eyes. “I heard Jethro installed a lock.”
Tony froze before finally swallowing painfully, “I wouldn't know Ducky, you'd have to talk to him about that.”
Ducky sighed, “I have my boy. I have.”
“He told you then?” Tony wasn't sure what to feel as he avoided looking at the older doctor.
Ducky sighed, “All of it, including finding two bags of take away sitting on his porch steps Wednesday morning.”
So that's what had happened to the food, Tony shook his head and sent Ducky a wry smile. “It's alright, seriously. I get it. It's not like we were serious.” Tony pointedly allowed himself to ignore the way his voice caught and broke on the word 'serious'.
Ducky still looked worried but he didn't force the issue and soon Tony was on his way again. He briefly considered a party or a bar, but he wasn't in the mood for a crowd. And now that the reality of the situation had set in he didn't particularly want to fuck anyone either. So he stopped at a liquor store and stocked up on enough alcohol to last the weekend before going home to get drunk off his ass.
By Monday he'd be back to himself, he'd have worked through it all with the safe haze of alcohol to dull the ache. He'd get the disgusting image of them out of his head; and he'd be okay. Even if he'd given Gibbs more than he'd ever given anyone else, Tony would be okay.
Because in the end he didn't really have a choice but to be okay.
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1202
Warnings: Angst
Authors Note: I needed to get this out after last week. It's like been stuck in my head, and then this weeks total ignore of what happened...well I dunno. I needed to just throw this up and deal with it, then go back to writing my less depressing fics. =D
It was common knowledge Gibbs never locked his door, what wasn't as well known was that he wasn't that vigilant about keeping his blinds shut either. Which was how Tony had seen The Kiss; standing at the base of the porch steps, bags of cheap takeout in both hands as per usual, and wishing he'd listened to Gibbs and just gone straight back to his apartment. But he'd been worried, and Tony wasn't good at sitting somewhere alone knowing that someone he loved was in pain. And Tony was in love with Gibbs, which was why watching that kiss had taken the place of his first rejection as number two on his Top Ten Worst Moments Ever.
Tony supposed he should have seen it coming; he'd let the Probie and Ziva think his obsession with watching Gibbs interview/interrogate Hart had something to do with it being amusing or action packed or any number of other things. But in reality, Tony had been around the block more than once and he'd seen the sparks, he wasn't stupid. Allison Hart might not be a redhead but she was one tough lady and Gibbs had always made it clear he liked tough girls, far more than he liked scrappy cops with too much charm.
So no Tony shouldn't be surprised, but he still was. They'd never actually said the words, but Tony had really thought that Gibbs loved him. He'd believed in that fact in a way he'd never believed in something before, and now he was going to have to deal with that.
Tony wasn't sure how he'd gotten back to his apartment, he knew he didn't have the take out bags anymore and he'd briefly wondered what had happened to them. But in the end it didn't matter, not really.
He sat on his couch for a long time, numb to the world. A part of him supposed he should call an old buddy and go to a bar and get really really drunk, then find someone to fuck until it didn't hurt anymore; it was how he'd dealt with most of his problems in life. But...it was a Tuesday, he had work in the morning, and if he showed up looking like shit Gibbs would kill him. So Tony didn't. He just kept sitting there, absentmindedly thinking he should sleep.
Tony almost wished he'd told Gibbs at least once that is wasn't just casual for him. They'd talked about everything else, so Tony had made the mistake of assuming Gibbs understood. That Gibbs felt the same way. But apparently he'd been wrong.
Tony didn't sleep that night.
Wednesday had been full of paperwork so Tony being half dead didn't matter work wise. Not that things got any better in the light of day; Gibbs wouldn't even look at him, never mind talk to him. And in a way Tony was both disappointed and pleased by that.
On one hand Tony hated ambiguity, he'd dealt with it for so long from his father that he preferred to keep his relationships straightforward and simple; the one exception hadn't been his idea and had turned out to be a gigantic cluster-fuck so the Jeanne thing had only reenforced his rule. You were either a friend (like Abby), a fuck buddy (like one of the many faceless women he'd sleptwith in his youth), or you were Gibbs.
On the other hand Tony never wanted Gibbs to give him that look, the one he'd seen on too many girls faces when he'd almost gotten serious about them, that special mixture of contempt, pity, and exasperation. He didn't want to know Gibbs had just enjoyed the sex, he didn't want to think about how easy it had been for Gibbs to make it clear that he'd moved on, and he certainly didn't want to see the only person he'd ever actually let in since he was a kid prove to him that the world really was the fucked up.
So they never did talk about it that day, there was just this deep silence between the two of them. Ziva and Tim didn't notice, but Tony was sure Ducky or Abby had. He didn't think they'd figure it out before he got his emotions back on track. Tony just needed to survive until the weekend, until he could figure something out to make pain in his chest ease up.
Thursday was just as bad, if not worse since Gibbs had gone back to business as usual and Tony found it harder to deal with Gibbs snapping at him when Tony hadn't gotten more than 4 hours of sleep the night before and still had that damn stabbing pain in his chest. Abby kept sending him significant looks and trying to get him to come down to her lab, but Tony didn't want pity so he continually avoided her, he also wasn't all that sure how she'd react. Tim figured out something was up at around noon, but he was even easier to deflect than Abby.
Friday was finally there and Tony really just wanted to leave when Ziva finally figured out something was up, and cornered him in the men's bathroom. Again. He hated it when she did that. He also found it a bit of a waste of time since neither of them had much to say. He'd been very relieved when the end of the day had finally came and he was on his way out to his car.
He hadn't counted on Ducky being there at his car, gazing at him with sad understanding eyes. “I heard Jethro installed a lock.”
Tony froze before finally swallowing painfully, “I wouldn't know Ducky, you'd have to talk to him about that.”
Ducky sighed, “I have my boy. I have.”
“He told you then?” Tony wasn't sure what to feel as he avoided looking at the older doctor.
Ducky sighed, “All of it, including finding two bags of take away sitting on his porch steps Wednesday morning.”
So that's what had happened to the food, Tony shook his head and sent Ducky a wry smile. “It's alright, seriously. I get it. It's not like we were serious.” Tony pointedly allowed himself to ignore the way his voice caught and broke on the word 'serious'.
Ducky still looked worried but he didn't force the issue and soon Tony was on his way again. He briefly considered a party or a bar, but he wasn't in the mood for a crowd. And now that the reality of the situation had set in he didn't particularly want to fuck anyone either. So he stopped at a liquor store and stocked up on enough alcohol to last the weekend before going home to get drunk off his ass.
By Monday he'd be back to himself, he'd have worked through it all with the safe haze of alcohol to dull the ache. He'd get the disgusting image of them out of his head; and he'd be okay. Even if he'd given Gibbs more than he'd ever given anyone else, Tony would be okay.
Because in the end he didn't really have a choice but to be okay.