Home Is Where The Heart Is 5/7
Fandom: N.C.I.S.
Title: Home Is Where The Heart Is
Rating: T
Genre: Slash
Pairings/Characters: Tony/Gibbs
Warnings: slight fluff
Summary: Tony knows he wants Gibbs, Jackson knows Tony wants Gibbs. The question is, what does Gibbs want? And will he ever get it? A somewhat convoluted exposition to a simple relationship.
A cool breeze blew softly down the street. Tony DiNozzo shivered where he stood on his boss's doorstep. He had been standing there for almost ten minutes, debating the repercussions of talking to Gibbs. He might let something loose that was supposed to stay tightly under wraps.
'Oh well,' Tony sighed. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened in front of him. At the sight of him, Gibbs stopped short.
For a few moments, the two men stared at each other in surprise, neither of them knowing quite what they were going to do next. Tony traced his gaze over Gibbs's figure, committing the sight of the older man in sweatpants and no shirt to memory for a later date. Little did he know, Gibbs was doing the same; in one assessment, he had every detail of Tony's appearance in his memory bank.
Finally, Gibbs stood back from the doorway, keeping his hand on the knob as he opened the door wider. "Well, are you gonna come in, DiNozzo?"
At Gibbs's dry voice, Tony immediately replied, "Yes, Boss."
He was again surprised when Gibbs grabbed his forearm after the door shut behind him. Green eyes looked to the older man imploringly, a question obvious in the mossy gaze.
"Not Boss," Gibbs replied gruffly. "Not tonight."
"All right," Tony said acquiescently, following Gibbs into the living room. He stood by the couch, leaning his hip against the side and crossing his arms over his chest. They tightened when the coolness from the outside streets seemed to seep into the house, causing him to shiver.
"Sit."
Nodding, the Italian settled into the corner of the couch and watched as Gibbs went into the kitchen, coming back some time later with two beers. He declined when offered.
"So. . ." he started nervously.
"What was that at the office today?" Gibbs asked abruptly.
Thrown off course, Tony just blinked for a few minutes, staring at the man before him in shock.
"Well?" the older man prodded after what he thought was too long of a silence.
"Uh. . ." Tony started. He absently ran his palms down his thighs, only noticing when he felt faint tremors in his fingertips. "The Director. He wanted to see me and wanted to make sure I had some sort of legal support."
Steely blue eyes observed the man's restlessness. "Why?"
The movements of Tony's hands stuttered to a stop and, again, he held himself tightly. "Something about reparations? Shepard-related business. SecNav didn't want me to do anything rash to expose the fact that N.C.I.S. was almost ran into the ground. Our reputation is bad enough, y'know?"
Gibbs nodded, setting his beer bottle on the coffee table next to the other one. "How much?"
Muttering into his chest, Tony tightened his arms until he felt tiny pinpricks of pain spread from where his fingernails were just barely digging into his sides. A gut feeling told him that something serious was about to go down, putting him on the defensive.
"I don't speak gibberish, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, pushing him to speak louder.
"Three hundred thousand," Tony finally repeated, in a voice that was just above a whisper.
Setting back against the couch, a quick flash of surprise flicked through Gibbs's gaze. "That's quite a bit. What's it going to?"
Tony shrugged. "I have no clue. It's not mine."
Gibbs tilted his head just slightly, a hint of confusion surrounding him. "What do you mean it's not yours?"
"I gave it away."
"You, Tony DiNozzo, playboy extraordinaire, just gave away three hundred thousand dollars," Gibbs said dryly.
Flinching internally, Tony nodded. "If I kept it, it just would've made me feel worse about the whole situation. Like I was paid to feel what I felt."
The living room filled with silence as each man contemplated the meaning of that last sentence. Tony felt as if he had revealed too much information. That Gibbs would sneer and tell him he didn't care how he felt. However, Gibbs was too busy feeling guilty for the predicament that Tony had ended up in and was hoping that, some day, the younger man would forgive him.
"What did you give it to?" Gibbs finally asked, trying to break the silence.
"Uh. . ." Tony hesitated. "Not a what. More a who. Or, more accurately, several whos."
Raising an eyebrow, Gibbs stared at Tony with questioning eyes. For a long moment, Tony didn't answer. He just turned his head away and stared unseeingly at the wall.
"Tony?"
"Well, I felt like I owed a lot of people for putting up with me during those months undercover. My attitude was terrible, as was my overall personality. But they stuck by me anyway."
Again, the heavy feeling of guilt crashed over Gibbs like a tidal wave, making him wince imperceptibly. "You wanna tell me who those people are?"
"Not really," Tony muttered, staring a hole into the wall.
Gibbs just stared at him with the expression that eventually broke down everybody's resistance, no matter how strong it was. He knew it was unfair-that the money was Tony's business and he could do what he wanted with it, even give it away-but something in his gut was telling him to keep going with his line of questioning. And he always listened to his gut.
"Tell me," he said when it was clear that his stare wouldn't work without Tony looking at him. He would bet that that was why Tony refused to look at him.
Tony shifted uneasily. "Well. . .I just told the Director to divide the baseline equally between Abby, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, and. . ."
"And?" Gibbs prodded when Tony trailed off.
Flinching, Tony dug his fingers into his side, sighing when the added pain took the edge off of his nervousness. Feeling Gibbs stare at him, he dropped his gaze and murmured, "And you."
Gibbs blinked. "Me? Tony. . .I wasn't even there when you were saddled with that op! In fact, if I had been there you probably wouldn't have had to do it anyway. You don't owe me anything."
"Maybe not for that," Tony conceded. He hesitated slightly before pushing all his insecurities down. He straightened up and dropped his hands into his lap, staring at Gibbs with a knowing gaze as he said, "But I do owe you."
In response to the understanding in Tony's gaze and the confidence in his stance, Gibbs shifted uneasily. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he'd take it as it came. Muscles tightened in anticipation. "Why do you think you owe me, Tony?"
"I do owe you," Tony said quietly, tracing over Gibbs's stiff jaw and defensive posture. "I know that you know how I feel. About you. How I've always felt about you."
Gibbs reared back. He was close to denying the accusation when he caught Tony's eye. There, in the gaze of the man who always had his six no matter what, Gibbs saw love and understanding. And it was nice, until he caught sight of what was behind that. Resignation and fear flickered deep in Tony's eyes.
"I didn't," Gibbs started. "Not before the coma. But. . .when Ziva came to get me at the hospital. . .it just felt wrong. I didn't know who I was waiting on, but I knew it wasn't her. And then when I got to the office. . .and you were there. . .I called you McGee. You looked so hurt. I could tell that you knew I didn't have my memory back and I could see it in your eyes. You were hurt but you looked as if you hadn't expected me to remember you. Like you weren't anything special."
Tony dropped his head, his confidence faltering. "I'm not."
"That's not true," Gibbs refuted. "But we'll come back to that. When I handed you my badge, I could see the sadness, the resignation. You thought that it was going to be the last time you saw me. But down in Mexico, as I was getting my memories back, I kept coming back to the memories of you. And I knew. I knew that there was more there than just a subordinate's loyalty to their boss. Tony. . .I knew that you loved me."
Silence fell over the living room. It didn't last long, however, as Tony let out a watery chuckle.
"I think that's more than I've ever heard you say, Boss," he choked out, not daring to look up at Gibbs.
"Tony. . .I said we'd come back to you not being anything special. You are special," Gibbs said quietly. He put a hand under Tony's chin and forced the younger man to look at him. "You're special to me. And that's why I never brought up how you felt. It's because. . ."
"Because what?" Tony whispered, staring at Gibbs's face. He was too scared to look in the man's eyes, but he was also too scared to look away.
Gibbs took a shaky breath and leaned forward slightly. As he spoke, his warm breath slid over Tony's skin. "Because I love you too, Tony."
Shocked, Tony snapped his gaze to Gibbs's eyes. In the steely gaze of the other man, he saw the love and the affection that Gibbs's normal brusqueness didn't show.
"Then. . ." Tony said, in a voice that was barely audible. "Please, Gibbs. . ."
"Not Gibbs," the older man whispered back. "Jethro. Remember?"
Tony sighed somewhat dreamily, "Jethro."
A smile flicked over Jethro's face as he leaned closer. "Tony," he acknowledged before pressing close to the Italian.
The younger man flicked his eyes up, looking at Jethro through his thick eyelashes. "Can I. . .?"
Jethro nodded and repeated Tony's earlier plea. "Please."
Simultaneously, the two men leaned forward. Their lips met in a sweet and chaste first kiss, their love for one another sparking and heating the air around them. All the stress and fear and anxiety bled out of them, allowing them to sink into the kiss with nothing else on their mind.
As their eyes slid closed, Tony's lips parted underneath Jethro's. The older man smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue into Tony's mouth, sliding against the roof of his mouth.
Tony whimpered and pulled back. Resting his forehead against Jethro's, he whispered again, "I love you."
Jethro gave a rare smile and reciprocated. "I love you, too."
Title: Home Is Where The Heart Is
Rating: T
Genre: Slash
Pairings/Characters: Tony/Gibbs
Warnings: slight fluff
Summary: Tony knows he wants Gibbs, Jackson knows Tony wants Gibbs. The question is, what does Gibbs want? And will he ever get it? A somewhat convoluted exposition to a simple relationship.
A cool breeze blew softly down the street. Tony DiNozzo shivered where he stood on his boss's doorstep. He had been standing there for almost ten minutes, debating the repercussions of talking to Gibbs. He might let something loose that was supposed to stay tightly under wraps.
'Oh well,' Tony sighed. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door opened in front of him. At the sight of him, Gibbs stopped short.
For a few moments, the two men stared at each other in surprise, neither of them knowing quite what they were going to do next. Tony traced his gaze over Gibbs's figure, committing the sight of the older man in sweatpants and no shirt to memory for a later date. Little did he know, Gibbs was doing the same; in one assessment, he had every detail of Tony's appearance in his memory bank.
Finally, Gibbs stood back from the doorway, keeping his hand on the knob as he opened the door wider. "Well, are you gonna come in, DiNozzo?"
At Gibbs's dry voice, Tony immediately replied, "Yes, Boss."
He was again surprised when Gibbs grabbed his forearm after the door shut behind him. Green eyes looked to the older man imploringly, a question obvious in the mossy gaze.
"Not Boss," Gibbs replied gruffly. "Not tonight."
"All right," Tony said acquiescently, following Gibbs into the living room. He stood by the couch, leaning his hip against the side and crossing his arms over his chest. They tightened when the coolness from the outside streets seemed to seep into the house, causing him to shiver.
"Sit."
Nodding, the Italian settled into the corner of the couch and watched as Gibbs went into the kitchen, coming back some time later with two beers. He declined when offered.
"So. . ." he started nervously.
"What was that at the office today?" Gibbs asked abruptly.
Thrown off course, Tony just blinked for a few minutes, staring at the man before him in shock.
"Well?" the older man prodded after what he thought was too long of a silence.
"Uh. . ." Tony started. He absently ran his palms down his thighs, only noticing when he felt faint tremors in his fingertips. "The Director. He wanted to see me and wanted to make sure I had some sort of legal support."
Steely blue eyes observed the man's restlessness. "Why?"
The movements of Tony's hands stuttered to a stop and, again, he held himself tightly. "Something about reparations? Shepard-related business. SecNav didn't want me to do anything rash to expose the fact that N.C.I.S. was almost ran into the ground. Our reputation is bad enough, y'know?"
Gibbs nodded, setting his beer bottle on the coffee table next to the other one. "How much?"
Muttering into his chest, Tony tightened his arms until he felt tiny pinpricks of pain spread from where his fingernails were just barely digging into his sides. A gut feeling told him that something serious was about to go down, putting him on the defensive.
"I don't speak gibberish, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, pushing him to speak louder.
"Three hundred thousand," Tony finally repeated, in a voice that was just above a whisper.
Setting back against the couch, a quick flash of surprise flicked through Gibbs's gaze. "That's quite a bit. What's it going to?"
Tony shrugged. "I have no clue. It's not mine."
Gibbs tilted his head just slightly, a hint of confusion surrounding him. "What do you mean it's not yours?"
"I gave it away."
"You, Tony DiNozzo, playboy extraordinaire, just gave away three hundred thousand dollars," Gibbs said dryly.
Flinching internally, Tony nodded. "If I kept it, it just would've made me feel worse about the whole situation. Like I was paid to feel what I felt."
The living room filled with silence as each man contemplated the meaning of that last sentence. Tony felt as if he had revealed too much information. That Gibbs would sneer and tell him he didn't care how he felt. However, Gibbs was too busy feeling guilty for the predicament that Tony had ended up in and was hoping that, some day, the younger man would forgive him.
"What did you give it to?" Gibbs finally asked, trying to break the silence.
"Uh. . ." Tony hesitated. "Not a what. More a who. Or, more accurately, several whos."
Raising an eyebrow, Gibbs stared at Tony with questioning eyes. For a long moment, Tony didn't answer. He just turned his head away and stared unseeingly at the wall.
"Tony?"
"Well, I felt like I owed a lot of people for putting up with me during those months undercover. My attitude was terrible, as was my overall personality. But they stuck by me anyway."
Again, the heavy feeling of guilt crashed over Gibbs like a tidal wave, making him wince imperceptibly. "You wanna tell me who those people are?"
"Not really," Tony muttered, staring a hole into the wall.
Gibbs just stared at him with the expression that eventually broke down everybody's resistance, no matter how strong it was. He knew it was unfair-that the money was Tony's business and he could do what he wanted with it, even give it away-but something in his gut was telling him to keep going with his line of questioning. And he always listened to his gut.
"Tell me," he said when it was clear that his stare wouldn't work without Tony looking at him. He would bet that that was why Tony refused to look at him.
Tony shifted uneasily. "Well. . .I just told the Director to divide the baseline equally between Abby, McGee, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer, and. . ."
"And?" Gibbs prodded when Tony trailed off.
Flinching, Tony dug his fingers into his side, sighing when the added pain took the edge off of his nervousness. Feeling Gibbs stare at him, he dropped his gaze and murmured, "And you."
Gibbs blinked. "Me? Tony. . .I wasn't even there when you were saddled with that op! In fact, if I had been there you probably wouldn't have had to do it anyway. You don't owe me anything."
"Maybe not for that," Tony conceded. He hesitated slightly before pushing all his insecurities down. He straightened up and dropped his hands into his lap, staring at Gibbs with a knowing gaze as he said, "But I do owe you."
In response to the understanding in Tony's gaze and the confidence in his stance, Gibbs shifted uneasily. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he'd take it as it came. Muscles tightened in anticipation. "Why do you think you owe me, Tony?"
"I do owe you," Tony said quietly, tracing over Gibbs's stiff jaw and defensive posture. "I know that you know how I feel. About you. How I've always felt about you."
Gibbs reared back. He was close to denying the accusation when he caught Tony's eye. There, in the gaze of the man who always had his six no matter what, Gibbs saw love and understanding. And it was nice, until he caught sight of what was behind that. Resignation and fear flickered deep in Tony's eyes.
"I didn't," Gibbs started. "Not before the coma. But. . .when Ziva came to get me at the hospital. . .it just felt wrong. I didn't know who I was waiting on, but I knew it wasn't her. And then when I got to the office. . .and you were there. . .I called you McGee. You looked so hurt. I could tell that you knew I didn't have my memory back and I could see it in your eyes. You were hurt but you looked as if you hadn't expected me to remember you. Like you weren't anything special."
Tony dropped his head, his confidence faltering. "I'm not."
"That's not true," Gibbs refuted. "But we'll come back to that. When I handed you my badge, I could see the sadness, the resignation. You thought that it was going to be the last time you saw me. But down in Mexico, as I was getting my memories back, I kept coming back to the memories of you. And I knew. I knew that there was more there than just a subordinate's loyalty to their boss. Tony. . .I knew that you loved me."
Silence fell over the living room. It didn't last long, however, as Tony let out a watery chuckle.
"I think that's more than I've ever heard you say, Boss," he choked out, not daring to look up at Gibbs.
"Tony. . .I said we'd come back to you not being anything special. You are special," Gibbs said quietly. He put a hand under Tony's chin and forced the younger man to look at him. "You're special to me. And that's why I never brought up how you felt. It's because. . ."
"Because what?" Tony whispered, staring at Gibbs's face. He was too scared to look in the man's eyes, but he was also too scared to look away.
Gibbs took a shaky breath and leaned forward slightly. As he spoke, his warm breath slid over Tony's skin. "Because I love you too, Tony."
Shocked, Tony snapped his gaze to Gibbs's eyes. In the steely gaze of the other man, he saw the love and the affection that Gibbs's normal brusqueness didn't show.
"Then. . ." Tony said, in a voice that was barely audible. "Please, Gibbs. . ."
"Not Gibbs," the older man whispered back. "Jethro. Remember?"
Tony sighed somewhat dreamily, "Jethro."
A smile flicked over Jethro's face as he leaned closer. "Tony," he acknowledged before pressing close to the Italian.
The younger man flicked his eyes up, looking at Jethro through his thick eyelashes. "Can I. . .?"
Jethro nodded and repeated Tony's earlier plea. "Please."
Simultaneously, the two men leaned forward. Their lips met in a sweet and chaste first kiss, their love for one another sparking and heating the air around them. All the stress and fear and anxiety bled out of them, allowing them to sink into the kiss with nothing else on their mind.
As their eyes slid closed, Tony's lips parted underneath Jethro's. The older man smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue into Tony's mouth, sliding against the roof of his mouth.
Tony whimpered and pulled back. Resting his forehead against Jethro's, he whispered again, "I love you."
Jethro gave a rare smile and reciprocated. "I love you, too."