Fic: The Language of Boat Building (NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, G)
Title: The Language of Boat Building
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: G
Summary: Gibbs doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve. In fact, Tony isn't even sure the man keeps it in his chest.
Author's Note: For this prompt at comment_fic. Set shortly after S.W.A.K. (Season 2)
It’s not like Gibbs wears his heart on his sleeve or anything; sometimes Tony isn’t sure the man even keeps it in his chest. When he’s had too much to drink and he’s pissed at Jethro, Tony pictures a rusted lockbox under armed guard in some classified sector of GITMO or an unmarked grave by a back road in Tijuana.
But Tony knows that Gibbs loves. He knows it better than anybody. Gibbs loves with a fierceness and a loyalty that takes Tony’s breath away, and the boat is just one reminder of that.
Gibbs built his first boat for his family.
He built it in the backyard and built a canopy over it when it became too large to cover with a tarp. Shannon would sit and talk with him as he worked or Kelly would play with her dolls nearby. He was going to take them all out sailing on its inaugural voyage, and he was going to name it Shannon. (He was going to build a smaller version - the Kelly - when Kelly was big enough to go boating on her own.) Some of Jethro’s most peaceful times as a boy, after his mother’s death, had been spent on the water, and he hoped to share those memories with his wife and their little girl.
Then Shannon and Kelly were killed. And Gibbs hacked the boat to pieces.
He rebuilt it in the basement because he couldn’t stand his own backyard, alone. Couldn’t sit where he used to sit with Shannon and watch Kelly play, and wasn’t going to sail a ship that had been built with love with only grief left to him as a fitting passenger. Gibbs told Tony that once.
Tony figured the rest out for himself.
Tony figured that the boat is Jethro’s way of keeping his love for them - for Shannon and Kelly - alive without having to relive their loss. Jethro’s boats are a message. A reminder: anything that can be built can be broken. Nothing Gibbs can build can bring back those boating trips with his daughter that he never got to have.
Tony tells himself not to read too much into it - when Gibbs stops referring to his latest creation as a “she” and leaves off the curling letters of its namesake when the time comes to paint its smooth-hewn hull.
But he fails when he comes home from Bethesda and finds a pile of neatly disassembled planks where a fully formed boat had stood, gathering dust, before he contracted Y-pestis.
Gibbs hasn’t touched Tony once since picking him up at the hospital. Gibbs’s been quiet, preoccupied. Tony left him in the kitchen, cooking, to come down to the basement and search out the bourbon, and he stares at Gibbs’ empty workbenches with a growing knot churning in his stomach.
He finds the bourbon, and a couple of mason jars, and takes them upstairs. He pours himself and Gibbs both a glass with shaking hands and carries the jars with him into the kitchen.
Gibbs doesn’t look up as Tony sets one jar on the counter to Gibbs’ right and takes a long sip from his own.
“Did you think my chances weren’t that great after all,” Tony can’t stop himself from asking, “or have you finally decided that it’s just not worth it… Putting all your time and energy into building something you don’t actually plan to enjoy?”
The steaks sizzling on Jethro’s stovetop make the only sounds in the room.
Tony wants to take it back. He wants Gibbs to look at him like he’s stupid; to say that he doesn’t know what Tony’s talking about and that nothing’s changed. He wants Gibbs to say that his tools are in the garage. Or in the bathroom, because the sink’s been leaking again. Or-
“Can’t sail a boat in a basement, DiNozzo,” Jethro says, his eyes on their dinner.
“Yeah, but-“
“Hand me that.”
Tony grabs the canister that Gibbs is motioning towards off of the spice rack behind him and hands it over, fingertips feeling oddly numb. Isn’t there a Gibbs rule against symbolically breaking up with a guy after he’s just survived a bout of the Plague? Tony thinks there should be. He can’t do anything with his thick tongue while Gibbs seasons their food and then picks up his mason jar of bourbon and nods at the back door.
“Come here.”
He walks-
Jethro walks out into the back yard.
It takes a moment for Tony to calm his heart and follow. Under the canopy that’s been slowly deteriorating back there for years, sits a stack of fresh lumber. On a piece of thick plywood set atop two sawhorses, sit most of Gibbs’ woodworking tools.
“Thought you might want something to do around here while you wait to be cleared for duty, and Ducky’d kill me if I let you work down in the basement with your lungs all scarred up…”
Tony’s pretty sure that Jethro’s talking. That Jethro’s talking and that he’s talking back, but mostly he’s just listening to his own heart beat and wondering if this is just his imagination, getting the better of him again.
“You- You want me to build you a boat?”
Now Gibbs looks at him like he’s stupid.
Like he’s stupid and like he’s- Tony doesn’t know. Something really, really good. With that little half-smile a person’s gotta work hard to get off of Gibbs unless they’re extremely lucky.
“You know how to build a boat, Tony?”
“No…”
“You can help. I thought Saturday we could start on the fra-“
Tony sets his jar down on- Whatever. He isn’t looking. He just sets his drink down on the first available flat surface and wraps his arms around Jethro and pushes their lips together. If this counts as getting “mushy”… or he smells like Bethesda and hospitals and death, then maybe this will get awkward, but Tony feels like, if he doesn’t kiss his lover now - right now - he’s going to lose whatever fragile hold he currently has on his calm.
Things don’t get awkward. Jethro wraps one arm around Tony and kisses him back with all of the fierceness that Tony’s admired so many times before. The fears of a man who buried a whole family are in the hand that settles carefully on the back of Tony’s neck. The strength of the man who survived - who’s ended lives, and saved them - is in its grip. Gibbs isn’t the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his chest like some sort of target - like, maybe, Tony does - but he wears them. God help him, but Tony would do anything to continue being the one who gets to peel the layers away and find out where.
“Okay. Can we get back to dinner now before I burn the hell out of a couple of ribeyes?” Gibbs asks gruffly when they finally break their kiss.
Tony laughs. He laughs out loud. “Yeah, Jethro. Sorry.” But there’s as much laughter in Gibbs’ eyes as on Tony’s lips.
[end.]
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: G
Summary: Gibbs doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve. In fact, Tony isn't even sure the man keeps it in his chest.
Author's Note: For this prompt at comment_fic. Set shortly after S.W.A.K. (Season 2)
It’s not like Gibbs wears his heart on his sleeve or anything; sometimes Tony isn’t sure the man even keeps it in his chest. When he’s had too much to drink and he’s pissed at Jethro, Tony pictures a rusted lockbox under armed guard in some classified sector of GITMO or an unmarked grave by a back road in Tijuana.
But Tony knows that Gibbs loves. He knows it better than anybody. Gibbs loves with a fierceness and a loyalty that takes Tony’s breath away, and the boat is just one reminder of that.
Gibbs built his first boat for his family.
He built it in the backyard and built a canopy over it when it became too large to cover with a tarp. Shannon would sit and talk with him as he worked or Kelly would play with her dolls nearby. He was going to take them all out sailing on its inaugural voyage, and he was going to name it Shannon. (He was going to build a smaller version - the Kelly - when Kelly was big enough to go boating on her own.) Some of Jethro’s most peaceful times as a boy, after his mother’s death, had been spent on the water, and he hoped to share those memories with his wife and their little girl.
Then Shannon and Kelly were killed. And Gibbs hacked the boat to pieces.
He rebuilt it in the basement because he couldn’t stand his own backyard, alone. Couldn’t sit where he used to sit with Shannon and watch Kelly play, and wasn’t going to sail a ship that had been built with love with only grief left to him as a fitting passenger. Gibbs told Tony that once.
Tony figured the rest out for himself.
Tony figured that the boat is Jethro’s way of keeping his love for them - for Shannon and Kelly - alive without having to relive their loss. Jethro’s boats are a message. A reminder: anything that can be built can be broken. Nothing Gibbs can build can bring back those boating trips with his daughter that he never got to have.
Tony tells himself not to read too much into it - when Gibbs stops referring to his latest creation as a “she” and leaves off the curling letters of its namesake when the time comes to paint its smooth-hewn hull.
But he fails when he comes home from Bethesda and finds a pile of neatly disassembled planks where a fully formed boat had stood, gathering dust, before he contracted Y-pestis.
Gibbs hasn’t touched Tony once since picking him up at the hospital. Gibbs’s been quiet, preoccupied. Tony left him in the kitchen, cooking, to come down to the basement and search out the bourbon, and he stares at Gibbs’ empty workbenches with a growing knot churning in his stomach.
He finds the bourbon, and a couple of mason jars, and takes them upstairs. He pours himself and Gibbs both a glass with shaking hands and carries the jars with him into the kitchen.
Gibbs doesn’t look up as Tony sets one jar on the counter to Gibbs’ right and takes a long sip from his own.
“Did you think my chances weren’t that great after all,” Tony can’t stop himself from asking, “or have you finally decided that it’s just not worth it… Putting all your time and energy into building something you don’t actually plan to enjoy?”
The steaks sizzling on Jethro’s stovetop make the only sounds in the room.
Tony wants to take it back. He wants Gibbs to look at him like he’s stupid; to say that he doesn’t know what Tony’s talking about and that nothing’s changed. He wants Gibbs to say that his tools are in the garage. Or in the bathroom, because the sink’s been leaking again. Or-
“Can’t sail a boat in a basement, DiNozzo,” Jethro says, his eyes on their dinner.
“Yeah, but-“
“Hand me that.”
Tony grabs the canister that Gibbs is motioning towards off of the spice rack behind him and hands it over, fingertips feeling oddly numb. Isn’t there a Gibbs rule against symbolically breaking up with a guy after he’s just survived a bout of the Plague? Tony thinks there should be. He can’t do anything with his thick tongue while Gibbs seasons their food and then picks up his mason jar of bourbon and nods at the back door.
“Come here.”
He walks-
Jethro walks out into the back yard.
It takes a moment for Tony to calm his heart and follow. Under the canopy that’s been slowly deteriorating back there for years, sits a stack of fresh lumber. On a piece of thick plywood set atop two sawhorses, sit most of Gibbs’ woodworking tools.
“Thought you might want something to do around here while you wait to be cleared for duty, and Ducky’d kill me if I let you work down in the basement with your lungs all scarred up…”
Tony’s pretty sure that Jethro’s talking. That Jethro’s talking and that he’s talking back, but mostly he’s just listening to his own heart beat and wondering if this is just his imagination, getting the better of him again.
“You- You want me to build you a boat?”
Now Gibbs looks at him like he’s stupid.
Like he’s stupid and like he’s- Tony doesn’t know. Something really, really good. With that little half-smile a person’s gotta work hard to get off of Gibbs unless they’re extremely lucky.
“You know how to build a boat, Tony?”
“No…”
“You can help. I thought Saturday we could start on the fra-“
Tony sets his jar down on- Whatever. He isn’t looking. He just sets his drink down on the first available flat surface and wraps his arms around Jethro and pushes their lips together. If this counts as getting “mushy”… or he smells like Bethesda and hospitals and death, then maybe this will get awkward, but Tony feels like, if he doesn’t kiss his lover now - right now - he’s going to lose whatever fragile hold he currently has on his calm.
Things don’t get awkward. Jethro wraps one arm around Tony and kisses him back with all of the fierceness that Tony’s admired so many times before. The fears of a man who buried a whole family are in the hand that settles carefully on the back of Tony’s neck. The strength of the man who survived - who’s ended lives, and saved them - is in its grip. Gibbs isn’t the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his chest like some sort of target - like, maybe, Tony does - but he wears them. God help him, but Tony would do anything to continue being the one who gets to peel the layers away and find out where.
“Okay. Can we get back to dinner now before I burn the hell out of a couple of ribeyes?” Gibbs asks gruffly when they finally break their kiss.
Tony laughs. He laughs out loud. “Yeah, Jethro. Sorry.” But there’s as much laughter in Gibbs’ eyes as on Tony’s lips.
[end.]