Huh. An NCIS story.
I’ve been haunted (by which I mean horrified) by the ending of Masquerade, so I’m slashwanking the nastiest 30 seconds in NCIS history and posting it before I get Jossed. Spoilers for Jetlag, Masquerade and Flesh and Blood. Although that last one is less “spoiler” and more “guest appearance by an inanimate object”.
Gibbs/Dinozzo. Warnings: none. Just a few swears. 950 words.
Unmasked
"He didn't believe me."
Tony hoisted his leg onto the battered coffee table and suffered Gibbs to stuff the pillow under his knee, sighing happily when Gibbs slapped an icepack on his leg and a beer in his hand. For the thousandth time that day he considered that kicking in Vega’s hotel room door had not been his brightest move. Should have let McGirlyman bruise his shoulder against it a few times instead of showing off for Gibbs.
"What didn't McGee believe?"
Tony wanted to ask how Gibbs knew who he meant, but contented himself with eyeing the frustrating bastard over his beer. "That I'm going to physio for my knee. He's convinced I'm seeing a shrink."
Gibbs snorted. "Not that you couldn't use one."
"Hey! Look who's talking," Tony protested. "Or not talking. If shrinks were paid by the word, yours would be bankrupt in a month."
"DiNozzo, the day I'm desperate enough to pay someone to listen to me talk is the day I nail my front door closed and retire to the basement permanently. What do you want to eat?"
"Order something." He pulled Gibbs down beside him, glanced around cursorily for the hideous orange phone--The Pumpkin, he'd named it on first delighted viewing--and listed until Gibbs was all heat and hardness along his side. "Don't want to move. Don't want you to move. You can't cook with one arm, anyway."
"Not wanting to move is what fucked up your knee in the first place." Gibbs' voice was disapproving, but his eyes kindled.
"Hey!" Tony repeated, leaning a little more heavily. "I leave the country for two lousy days and you throw yourself in front of a car. Pardon my impatience."
Gibbs extracted his arm from where it was wedged between them to settle it behind Tony, and took his shoulder in a warm clasp.
"It's what, 12 feet from the foyer to the couch? Why do we bother leaving that pillow down here?”
"Sure, and you were fighting me off like crazy the whole time." Grinning, Tony smoothed a hand from Gibbs' knee to just below his fly. God, he loved Gibbs in a suit.
"One arm," Gibbs reminded him, and spread his legs a little. "And I'm not the one whose knees needed the pillow." He closed his eyes, and his head rolled back against the couch when Tony's fingers crept up to slide his zipper down. "Good luck with that. I just took a painkiller."
His cock in its cotton casing twitched under Tony's fingers but remained quiescent. Tony gave a huff of disappointment and left his hand where it was. "Me, too," he admitted. "What a pair of studs. Dinner?"
Gibbs' mouth curved up at the corner. "Not pizza. Sushi?"
"Tell 'em not to send anything with names I can't pronounce," Tony murmured. "It never ceases to amaze that someone who dresses the way you do is so adventurous when it comes to food. Must be an 'eat it or starve' Marine thing."
"That's right. I'm going to choke down raw fish because I'm a dumb jarhead who can't figure out where to buy a hamburger." Gibbs' expression hadn't changed, but the warmth in his voice had dropped by several degrees. Tony's hand fell away from its comfortable resting place and he sat up a little to stare.
"Jethro..."
Gibbs let out a gusty sigh and scrubbed his hand roughly across his face. When he restored it to its place behind Tony's shoulders Tony relaxed again, but continued to regard him with concern.
"That damn woman, Tone... she was waiting for me when I got home tonight."
"What!" Tony sat up again, wincing as the abrupt motion jarred his knee. He caught himself darting suspicious looks around the room and felt a little foolish. “Where was she?” Gibbs cut his eyes down at the couch and back up to him, and Tony fought the urge to leap off it. “That’s… really disturbing, Boss.
“…Wait. Are you telling me Ms. Rule-of-Law broke into your house?”
“Remind me to look for my goddamn house key in the morning. Although I don’t expect her to do it again; I’m sure she feels she’s milked it of all its shock value.”
Tony hated her. She kind of intimidated him, which pissed him off. “Why is she so hell-bent on trying to throw you off balance?” Mister Gibbs. Which, as verbal weapons went, ranked right up there with “neener, neener”. He really hated her. And he really, really hated Gibbs’ plan.
“So, what did you two talk about?” He thought he’d handled that with just the right touch of casual aplomb until a muffled grunt drew his attention to the vice-like grip he had on Gibbs’ thigh.
“She admitted she had an agenda. Didn’t get any farther than that. I… pushed her. She left. We’ll see.”
“I hate this plan,” Tony muttered. “What the hell does ‘pushed her’ mean?”
“You said you didn’t want to hear the details. Change your mind?” Gibbs was watching him warily.
“No, I don’t want to hear the details! Jesus.” His imagination was already giving him too many details. Gibbs brushing off her stupid games, icy eyes drawing her, getting so close her lids fluttered closed and she swayed a little toward him.
Getting past her defences.
Bastard.
“Fuck dinner,” he announced, and struggled to his feet. “And fuck the pain pills. I’m going to make you come so hard your neighbour will feel it.” He felt ferocious. If there was ever a time for Gibbs to not talk, this was it.
“Feeling a need to stake a claim, DiNozzo?” Gibbs was smirking up at him. It didn’t hide the lines of strain around his eyes, though. Damn it. Tony would have fallen on him right there, but he didn’t think his knee could take it.
“Shut up, lock the front door and meet me upstairs. It’s going to take both of us to get you out of that straightjacket.”
Gibbs/Dinozzo. Warnings: none. Just a few swears. 950 words.
Unmasked
"He didn't believe me."
Tony hoisted his leg onto the battered coffee table and suffered Gibbs to stuff the pillow under his knee, sighing happily when Gibbs slapped an icepack on his leg and a beer in his hand. For the thousandth time that day he considered that kicking in Vega’s hotel room door had not been his brightest move. Should have let McGirlyman bruise his shoulder against it a few times instead of showing off for Gibbs.
"What didn't McGee believe?"
Tony wanted to ask how Gibbs knew who he meant, but contented himself with eyeing the frustrating bastard over his beer. "That I'm going to physio for my knee. He's convinced I'm seeing a shrink."
Gibbs snorted. "Not that you couldn't use one."
"Hey! Look who's talking," Tony protested. "Or not talking. If shrinks were paid by the word, yours would be bankrupt in a month."
"DiNozzo, the day I'm desperate enough to pay someone to listen to me talk is the day I nail my front door closed and retire to the basement permanently. What do you want to eat?"
"Order something." He pulled Gibbs down beside him, glanced around cursorily for the hideous orange phone--The Pumpkin, he'd named it on first delighted viewing--and listed until Gibbs was all heat and hardness along his side. "Don't want to move. Don't want you to move. You can't cook with one arm, anyway."
"Not wanting to move is what fucked up your knee in the first place." Gibbs' voice was disapproving, but his eyes kindled.
"Hey!" Tony repeated, leaning a little more heavily. "I leave the country for two lousy days and you throw yourself in front of a car. Pardon my impatience."
Gibbs extracted his arm from where it was wedged between them to settle it behind Tony, and took his shoulder in a warm clasp.
"It's what, 12 feet from the foyer to the couch? Why do we bother leaving that pillow down here?”
"Sure, and you were fighting me off like crazy the whole time." Grinning, Tony smoothed a hand from Gibbs' knee to just below his fly. God, he loved Gibbs in a suit.
"One arm," Gibbs reminded him, and spread his legs a little. "And I'm not the one whose knees needed the pillow." He closed his eyes, and his head rolled back against the couch when Tony's fingers crept up to slide his zipper down. "Good luck with that. I just took a painkiller."
His cock in its cotton casing twitched under Tony's fingers but remained quiescent. Tony gave a huff of disappointment and left his hand where it was. "Me, too," he admitted. "What a pair of studs. Dinner?"
Gibbs' mouth curved up at the corner. "Not pizza. Sushi?"
"Tell 'em not to send anything with names I can't pronounce," Tony murmured. "It never ceases to amaze that someone who dresses the way you do is so adventurous when it comes to food. Must be an 'eat it or starve' Marine thing."
"That's right. I'm going to choke down raw fish because I'm a dumb jarhead who can't figure out where to buy a hamburger." Gibbs' expression hadn't changed, but the warmth in his voice had dropped by several degrees. Tony's hand fell away from its comfortable resting place and he sat up a little to stare.
"Jethro..."
Gibbs let out a gusty sigh and scrubbed his hand roughly across his face. When he restored it to its place behind Tony's shoulders Tony relaxed again, but continued to regard him with concern.
"That damn woman, Tone... she was waiting for me when I got home tonight."
"What!" Tony sat up again, wincing as the abrupt motion jarred his knee. He caught himself darting suspicious looks around the room and felt a little foolish. “Where was she?” Gibbs cut his eyes down at the couch and back up to him, and Tony fought the urge to leap off it. “That’s… really disturbing, Boss.
“…Wait. Are you telling me Ms. Rule-of-Law broke into your house?”
“Remind me to look for my goddamn house key in the morning. Although I don’t expect her to do it again; I’m sure she feels she’s milked it of all its shock value.”
Tony hated her. She kind of intimidated him, which pissed him off. “Why is she so hell-bent on trying to throw you off balance?” Mister Gibbs. Which, as verbal weapons went, ranked right up there with “neener, neener”. He really hated her. And he really, really hated Gibbs’ plan.
“So, what did you two talk about?” He thought he’d handled that with just the right touch of casual aplomb until a muffled grunt drew his attention to the vice-like grip he had on Gibbs’ thigh.
“She admitted she had an agenda. Didn’t get any farther than that. I… pushed her. She left. We’ll see.”
“I hate this plan,” Tony muttered. “What the hell does ‘pushed her’ mean?”
“You said you didn’t want to hear the details. Change your mind?” Gibbs was watching him warily.
“No, I don’t want to hear the details! Jesus.” His imagination was already giving him too many details. Gibbs brushing off her stupid games, icy eyes drawing her, getting so close her lids fluttered closed and she swayed a little toward him.
Getting past her defences.
Bastard.
“Fuck dinner,” he announced, and struggled to his feet. “And fuck the pain pills. I’m going to make you come so hard your neighbour will feel it.” He felt ferocious. If there was ever a time for Gibbs to not talk, this was it.
“Feeling a need to stake a claim, DiNozzo?” Gibbs was smirking up at him. It didn’t hide the lines of strain around his eyes, though. Damn it. Tony would have fallen on him right there, but he didn’t think his knee could take it.
“Shut up, lock the front door and meet me upstairs. It’s going to take both of us to get you out of that straightjacket.”