(FIC) NCIS: Something New, Gibbs/DiNozzo: G
Title: Something New
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: G
Summary: The one thing Tony isn't prepared for is for things to change.
For: Day eight of tibbs_yuletide
"Ten more minutes," McGee mumbled under his breath as the clock ticked ever closer to the time when they would all be off duty for five whole days. Ziva strummed her fingers on her desk. Gibbs scowled as he reshuffled the paperwork on his desk. Tony tapped his foot in time with distant tinkle of holiday music that drifted from the copier room. They all stared at the phones, waiting for one of them to ring, and desperately hoping they wouldn't.
The team had worked four straight weekends, which wasn't even technically legal, so they were all going to get some much needed down time. Or, at least that was the theory. It never usually worked out that way and Tony was betting that seconds before they were supposed to leave, the phone was going to ring and Gibbs was going to yell at them to grab their gear.
"So," Tony said, trying ignore the way the minutes passed like hours. "What's going to come up?"
Tilting her head to the side, Ziva asked, "Come up?"
"You know," Tony answered with a smirk. "That thing that comes up and requires us to work through any planned leave. Which has happened so often that it makes no sense to even ask what anyone has planned."
"Dead petty officer," McGee called out immediately. "It's always a dead petty officer."
Tony grinned, even though McGee totally stole his pick. "I'll have to choose," Ziva began, elongating her words-she was totally going to pick dead petty officer, too-"dead sailor."
"Tim's dad," Gibbs said shortly to the general bemusement of everyone else. "First it was my dad, then Tony's dad, then Ziva's dad. I figured we were due for another crisis from McGee's side of things."
Tony laughed. "Yeah, we could all do with a little less familial involvement on the job." He faced McGee, who looked a little less ruffled at Gibbs' explanation. "And how is your sister doing, by the way?"
"Fine, Tony. Not that you actually care." Ooh. He was annoyed. Tony grinned some more.
"What's your choice, Tony?" Ziva asked, defusing the fun between him and McTesty before it could start.
"I'll be a bit daring and say...meat puzzle, the sequel. More bodies, more pieces, more mandatory overtime!" Tony took in the various expressions of displeasure and horror from everyone and sat back, inordinately pleased with himself. Though, he'd be less pleased if it turned out to be accurate.
The phone on Gibbs' desk rang out, disrupting the casual atmosphere, and everyone shot a glare in his direction.
"Gibbs." His boss frowned at whomever was on the phone and he sent a quick, fervent prayer that it was just a short call from Vance to wish them all a pleasant, non-working vacation. Then Gibbs hung up the phone and said nothing, because he was just that infuriating without even trying.
"Well?"McGee was brave enough to ask.
"Time to go," Gibbs said, grabbing his coat. Everyone else rushed to follow suit.
"I'm going to spend the entire five days writing," McGee said happily.
Ziva was already halfway to the elevator. "I think I'll go on a road trip."
"I don't know if I want to check out that Marlon Brando movie marathon at the theatre or go do some shopping or-"
"If you have that much free time on your hands, I have wood that needs chopping," Gibbs said as they walked into the elevator. That was as direct as Gibbs ever got when inviting him over. Usually, Tony just showed up whenever he felt brave enough with beer or food of some sort. Gibbs never sent him away, but he rarely ever put out an offer.
"Sure thing, Boss," Tony responded, ignoring the pitying glances of his coworkers. Instead, he focused on the tiny smile emerging on Gibbs' lips.
~*~
Tony wasn't sure why he was surprised when Gibbs had actually set him to chopping up wood for the fireplace. It was such a Gibbs thing to have the cover story not actually be a cover story. He really didn't mind so much as long as Gibbs planned to warm him up later on that night.
"You almost done, DiNozzo? Dinner's waiting," Gibbs yelled out from the backdoor. "Don't want it to get cold while you're messing around."
Rolling his eyes, Tony finished up with the last few logs, dropped them on pile, and headed back inside. He gladly shed his winter gear, leaving it on a chair near the door, and rubbed his hands together as he made his way to the kitchen.
Dinner was take-out Chinese food, which was already split between their two plates, and a couple of beers. "Ooh, you made my favourite," Tony said as he sat down and picked up the fork Gibbs had set out for him.
Gibbs' fingers twitched around his chopsticks. "Yeah, well, I was feeling creative in the kitchen while you were goofing off outside."
Although a part of him-many parts, actually-were looking forward to having Gibbs to himself for five days, another part of him was a little nervous. They'd been on and off again (and again and again and again) for the better part of eight years. They'd do whatever it was they did, then he'd do something and Gibbs would back off, and he'd follow suit, he'd date someone else, Gibbs would date someone else, because they were terrible at relationships, it'd all go horribly wrong somehow, and they'd end up in bed again. Tony really liked the being in bed with Gibbs part. That almost made up for the bad parts.
Well, it was enough to keep him coming back for more. (That and he was clearly masochistic, being in love with Gibbs.)
"So," Gibbs said, sounding strangely awkward as he jabbed at a piece of shrimp on his plate. "Got any plans for the next few days?"
"Er..." Tony said, not quite sure what answer Gibbs wanted him to give. "Other than not showing my face at the office until next week, no."
"Good." Apparently satisfied, Gibbs nodded once and went back to eating dinner not bothering to explain anything to Tony. Typical.
Tony only managed about three bites before he lost his battle with patience and blurted out, "So, do you have plans? For me, I mean? Or us? Or yourself? Or at all?"
There was a strange expression that crossed Gibbs face before he smiled a little. "You could say that."
Which, Tony noted, really didn't tell him anything. "Gonna let me in on it?"
"Soon enough, Tony. Finish eating."
Knowing an order when he heard one, Tony tried to tamp down his curiosity enough to finish his meal. At least eating would keep his mouth too busy to pepper Gibbs with questions he probably wouldn't answer until he was ready anyhow.
Once they were finished, Gibbs got up from the table and moved toward the living room, calling over his shoulder, "Clear the table."
When he walked into the living room five minutes later, Gibbs had already set about getting a fire going in the fireplace. And with the wood he cut, Tony noticed smugly.
"So," Gibbs began, motioning Tony toward the sofa. Gibbs sat down and Tony dropped down next to him, close enough so their legs were flush together. "I was thinking about this house. Your place. "
"Yeah?" Tony asked, and he felt a slight fluttering in his belly. Usually, when he came over to Gibbs, they'd eat, make out on the couch for a bit, then go up to the bedroom. This...this was different.
"Think we'll be able to do it all in five days?" Gibbs asked, presumptuous as always. Tony smirked at Gibbs' refusal to even consider Tony might say no. Just assumed that since Gibbs was finally ready, Tony would be, too.
Tony let a smile grow on his lips. The thing was, Gibbs really did know him far too well. "Yeah, I think so. I got a lot of stuff, you know."
"Need to clear out a few rooms here. To make room." Tony swallowed thickly. It was hard for him to believe that Gibbs was finally ready to move on. If someone had asked him even twenty minutes ago, he'd have bet it would never happen.
"If you're sure," Tony said, hedging.
Gibbs swatted him lightly on the back of the head before curling his hand around the back of Tony's neck. "Do I make it a habit of doing anything I don't want to do?"
"No, Jethro, you don't," Tony answered, and leaned in to kiss Gibbs on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times. He pulled back, smiling brightly.
"Hey," Tony said, getting to his feet and tugging Gibbs with him. "Let's go upstairs now and use the bed properly. I have a feeling we'll be doing nothing but sacking out on it for the rest of the week."
"Speak for yourself, Tony. Some of us are used to hard work," Gibbs replied lightly, even as he followed him.
"Ha, you want to make a bet now?" Tony turned and walked backwards into the bedroom. "See who has energy to do what at the end of the day?"
Taking off his shirt, Gibbs gave him a smile that was more happy than anything else. "Don't pout when I win."
Tony flopped on the bed and watched as Gibbs stripped the rest of the way and figured no matter who was right, he'd win.
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: G
Summary: The one thing Tony isn't prepared for is for things to change.
For: Day eight of tibbs_yuletide
"Ten more minutes," McGee mumbled under his breath as the clock ticked ever closer to the time when they would all be off duty for five whole days. Ziva strummed her fingers on her desk. Gibbs scowled as he reshuffled the paperwork on his desk. Tony tapped his foot in time with distant tinkle of holiday music that drifted from the copier room. They all stared at the phones, waiting for one of them to ring, and desperately hoping they wouldn't.
The team had worked four straight weekends, which wasn't even technically legal, so they were all going to get some much needed down time. Or, at least that was the theory. It never usually worked out that way and Tony was betting that seconds before they were supposed to leave, the phone was going to ring and Gibbs was going to yell at them to grab their gear.
"So," Tony said, trying ignore the way the minutes passed like hours. "What's going to come up?"
Tilting her head to the side, Ziva asked, "Come up?"
"You know," Tony answered with a smirk. "That thing that comes up and requires us to work through any planned leave. Which has happened so often that it makes no sense to even ask what anyone has planned."
"Dead petty officer," McGee called out immediately. "It's always a dead petty officer."
Tony grinned, even though McGee totally stole his pick. "I'll have to choose," Ziva began, elongating her words-she was totally going to pick dead petty officer, too-"dead sailor."
"Tim's dad," Gibbs said shortly to the general bemusement of everyone else. "First it was my dad, then Tony's dad, then Ziva's dad. I figured we were due for another crisis from McGee's side of things."
Tony laughed. "Yeah, we could all do with a little less familial involvement on the job." He faced McGee, who looked a little less ruffled at Gibbs' explanation. "And how is your sister doing, by the way?"
"Fine, Tony. Not that you actually care." Ooh. He was annoyed. Tony grinned some more.
"What's your choice, Tony?" Ziva asked, defusing the fun between him and McTesty before it could start.
"I'll be a bit daring and say...meat puzzle, the sequel. More bodies, more pieces, more mandatory overtime!" Tony took in the various expressions of displeasure and horror from everyone and sat back, inordinately pleased with himself. Though, he'd be less pleased if it turned out to be accurate.
The phone on Gibbs' desk rang out, disrupting the casual atmosphere, and everyone shot a glare in his direction.
"Gibbs." His boss frowned at whomever was on the phone and he sent a quick, fervent prayer that it was just a short call from Vance to wish them all a pleasant, non-working vacation. Then Gibbs hung up the phone and said nothing, because he was just that infuriating without even trying.
"Well?"McGee was brave enough to ask.
"Time to go," Gibbs said, grabbing his coat. Everyone else rushed to follow suit.
"I'm going to spend the entire five days writing," McGee said happily.
Ziva was already halfway to the elevator. "I think I'll go on a road trip."
"I don't know if I want to check out that Marlon Brando movie marathon at the theatre or go do some shopping or-"
"If you have that much free time on your hands, I have wood that needs chopping," Gibbs said as they walked into the elevator. That was as direct as Gibbs ever got when inviting him over. Usually, Tony just showed up whenever he felt brave enough with beer or food of some sort. Gibbs never sent him away, but he rarely ever put out an offer.
"Sure thing, Boss," Tony responded, ignoring the pitying glances of his coworkers. Instead, he focused on the tiny smile emerging on Gibbs' lips.
~*~
Tony wasn't sure why he was surprised when Gibbs had actually set him to chopping up wood for the fireplace. It was such a Gibbs thing to have the cover story not actually be a cover story. He really didn't mind so much as long as Gibbs planned to warm him up later on that night.
"You almost done, DiNozzo? Dinner's waiting," Gibbs yelled out from the backdoor. "Don't want it to get cold while you're messing around."
Rolling his eyes, Tony finished up with the last few logs, dropped them on pile, and headed back inside. He gladly shed his winter gear, leaving it on a chair near the door, and rubbed his hands together as he made his way to the kitchen.
Dinner was take-out Chinese food, which was already split between their two plates, and a couple of beers. "Ooh, you made my favourite," Tony said as he sat down and picked up the fork Gibbs had set out for him.
Gibbs' fingers twitched around his chopsticks. "Yeah, well, I was feeling creative in the kitchen while you were goofing off outside."
Although a part of him-many parts, actually-were looking forward to having Gibbs to himself for five days, another part of him was a little nervous. They'd been on and off again (and again and again and again) for the better part of eight years. They'd do whatever it was they did, then he'd do something and Gibbs would back off, and he'd follow suit, he'd date someone else, Gibbs would date someone else, because they were terrible at relationships, it'd all go horribly wrong somehow, and they'd end up in bed again. Tony really liked the being in bed with Gibbs part. That almost made up for the bad parts.
Well, it was enough to keep him coming back for more. (That and he was clearly masochistic, being in love with Gibbs.)
"So," Gibbs said, sounding strangely awkward as he jabbed at a piece of shrimp on his plate. "Got any plans for the next few days?"
"Er..." Tony said, not quite sure what answer Gibbs wanted him to give. "Other than not showing my face at the office until next week, no."
"Good." Apparently satisfied, Gibbs nodded once and went back to eating dinner not bothering to explain anything to Tony. Typical.
Tony only managed about three bites before he lost his battle with patience and blurted out, "So, do you have plans? For me, I mean? Or us? Or yourself? Or at all?"
There was a strange expression that crossed Gibbs face before he smiled a little. "You could say that."
Which, Tony noted, really didn't tell him anything. "Gonna let me in on it?"
"Soon enough, Tony. Finish eating."
Knowing an order when he heard one, Tony tried to tamp down his curiosity enough to finish his meal. At least eating would keep his mouth too busy to pepper Gibbs with questions he probably wouldn't answer until he was ready anyhow.
Once they were finished, Gibbs got up from the table and moved toward the living room, calling over his shoulder, "Clear the table."
When he walked into the living room five minutes later, Gibbs had already set about getting a fire going in the fireplace. And with the wood he cut, Tony noticed smugly.
"So," Gibbs began, motioning Tony toward the sofa. Gibbs sat down and Tony dropped down next to him, close enough so their legs were flush together. "I was thinking about this house. Your place. "
"Yeah?" Tony asked, and he felt a slight fluttering in his belly. Usually, when he came over to Gibbs, they'd eat, make out on the couch for a bit, then go up to the bedroom. This...this was different.
"Think we'll be able to do it all in five days?" Gibbs asked, presumptuous as always. Tony smirked at Gibbs' refusal to even consider Tony might say no. Just assumed that since Gibbs was finally ready, Tony would be, too.
Tony let a smile grow on his lips. The thing was, Gibbs really did know him far too well. "Yeah, I think so. I got a lot of stuff, you know."
"Need to clear out a few rooms here. To make room." Tony swallowed thickly. It was hard for him to believe that Gibbs was finally ready to move on. If someone had asked him even twenty minutes ago, he'd have bet it would never happen.
"If you're sure," Tony said, hedging.
Gibbs swatted him lightly on the back of the head before curling his hand around the back of Tony's neck. "Do I make it a habit of doing anything I don't want to do?"
"No, Jethro, you don't," Tony answered, and leaned in to kiss Gibbs on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times. He pulled back, smiling brightly.
"Hey," Tony said, getting to his feet and tugging Gibbs with him. "Let's go upstairs now and use the bed properly. I have a feeling we'll be doing nothing but sacking out on it for the rest of the week."
"Speak for yourself, Tony. Some of us are used to hard work," Gibbs replied lightly, even as he followed him.
"Ha, you want to make a bet now?" Tony turned and walked backwards into the bedroom. "See who has energy to do what at the end of the day?"
Taking off his shirt, Gibbs gave him a smile that was more happy than anything else. "Don't pout when I win."
Tony flopped on the bed and watched as Gibbs stripped the rest of the way and figured no matter who was right, he'd win.