Defining Family
Title: Defining Family
Author: triskellion
Written for: kaylashay81
Prompt: DiNozzo-centric (gen/het/slash; all ratings acceptable); There's your birth family and there's the family you make. (no Tony/Ziva)
Archive: Sure. Just ask.
Genre: Drama
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Word Count: 5330
Summary: Part of Tony's past has come back to haunt him, though it's by no means his fault. The whole pack is ready to back him up.
Author's Note: I wrote this for a ficathon ages ago, but never posted it to my journal. So here it is.
To those readers familiar with my Shifter AU Home, this is not in that series. Yes, the characters are shifters of some sort, but the rules are a bit different, as are who's what. Just wanted to make that clear.
Gibbs looked up with a raised eyebrow when Tony appeared at the top of the basement stairs, but when Tony stayed silent, the older man went back to his sanding without a word.
Time passed. Tony started out sitting on the stairs, then came down to the floor and began poking around the work benches. Gibbs finally decided to speak up when the younger agent started pacing around the boat, his shoulders hunched as though he were trapped in a cage instead of being free to leave at any time. The older man almost expected the younger to shift form and pace on all fours.
“What happened?” Gibbs barked as Tony passed him yet again.
Tony didn't speak, didn't even pause at the sound of Gibbs' voice, just continued his circuit of the room.
Gibbs didn't like being ignored under the best of circumstances. Late at night it always made him cranky, but when being ignored by the one man he could usually trust to always do as he said, it flat out pissed him off. Gibbs caught the younger man by the arm as he passed on his next circuit, pulling Tony to a stop. “What happened?” Gibbs growled right into the younger man's ear.
That got Tony's attention, but not any positive reaction. Tony curled into himself, hunching up into a ball as much was possible while still standing, but his eyes fixed on Gibbs. He looked like he expected his alpha to attack at any moment.
“Talk to me, Tony,” Gibbs urged more gently. He loosened his hand to more of a supportive grip instead of a bruising one. Attack was not on his mind.
“You ordered me to never be unreachable,” Tony muttered and fell silent again, his eyes now on his toes. His head was down, chin protecting his throat. It wasn't the submission Gibbs craved and Tony usually gave so readily. To a normal human it might seem like just a defensive move, but to someone like Gibbs it was almost as much of a challenge as staring would be.
“Yeah?” Gibbs prompted. He couldn't imagine what could have upset Tony so much to throw off the easy dynamic they'd shared since the NCIS agent had found the, then, Baltimore Detective.
Not saying anything further, Tony pulled his shattered cell phone from his pocket and dumped it in Gibbs' free hand. Gibbs let the younger agent go in order to have both hands to manipulate the cell phone's remains, and as soon as he was free Tony began pacing again. Trying to think like a human and not a wolf, Gibbs let the challenge go, for now.
The phone hadn't just been dropped or stepped on. Someone had deliberately and repeatedly hit it until both the case and circuit boards had broken into multiple pieces. Gibbs wasn't sure even Abby could get something from it. “What happened?” he asked again.
“They wouldn't stop calling,” Tony snapped. Had he been in wolf form, his hackles would have been up. As a human, his shoulders were hunched oddly and there was a manic light in his eyes.
“Who?” Gibbs was confused. He knew his younger agent had problems with his father and the occasional stalker ex, but nothing had ever triggered such an extreme reaction. Gibbs was the one who was known for randomly destroying his phones. Tony had been using the same phone since the replacement after the plague incident.
Tony turned to Gibbs, leaning onto the boat, his face a mask of indecision and pain. “My mother's pack,” he snarled.
Gibbs sighed. Tony was too worked up to explain simply, and it was too late in the night for Gibbs to have the patience to drag the story out of the younger man, growl by growl. Instead, he made a guess. He walked around the boat and pulled Tony into his arms, ignoring the stiff muscles that resisted molding themselves against his body as they usually did. Gibbs leaned into Tony's neck, sniffing deeply and brushing his nose down Tony's neck from ear to shoulder. At the junction of neck and shoulder, Gibbs nuzzled aside the collar of a shirt that probably cost as much as a week's pay before sinking his teeth into the flesh below.
Tony struggled for a moment, trying to push away. But it was a weak attempt, more a reflex of his defensive mood than anything else. The longer Gibbs' teeth gripped, the more Tony relaxed, melting against the older man until Gibbs was all that held them up. Only once Tony's nose touched Gibbs' shoulder did the older man release his bite.
Raising his head, Gibbs looked over his handiwork. The flesh was mottled with layers of bruises, overlapping teeth marks left over weeks, months, years. He had left the first bruise there the day they had met, a reminder of his promise.
“You are mine,” he whispered, echoing that old promise, “as long as you want to be. Do you want to leave, Tony?”
Tony struggled a little, pushing himself upright on his own legs, though his hands on Gibbs' chest were still a major point of support, and shook his head.
“Say it,” Gibbs ordered. That was his requirement. He would protect Tony, accept Tony, but the younger man had to ask for it, acknowledge it aloud.
“I want to be here, be yours,” Tony whispered. His eyes were fixed on his hands where they pressed against Gibbs' sweatshirt, but this time his chin was tilted to the side, baring his throat on the bruised side.
Gibbs leaned in and nipped Tony lightly over the jugular, accepting the submission. “Then you are,” he said reassuringly. In silence, he wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist and led the way up the stairs to the living room. Once Gibbs took his place on the couch, Tony curled up at the older man's feet, his head on Gibbs' knee. It was a position that Gibbs had been trying to break the younger man of, as he was more than willing to accept Tony as closer to an equal. Some event in his childhood that Tony still wouldn't talk about had left the otherwise strong agent prone to taking comfort in this pose, and tonight Gibbs decided not to start the argument again. Instead, he began running his fingers through Tony's hair.
Waiting in silence, Gibbs studied how Tony slowly stiffened again, his body becoming less of a puddle of human while still remaining molded around Gibbs' form. This was how it should be. Gibbs' fingers running through Tony's brown hair seemed to keep the younger man from becoming as tense as before, and when Tony was ready he would start talking. At least, normally he would. Gibbs hoped that would stay true. He didn't want to have to push too much more tonight. It might damage their relationship.
Fortunately, Gibbs read the situation right. Again.
“My mother was one of us, my father wasn't,” Tony said softly.
“So you told me,” Gibbs said encouragingly when the younger man paused.
“Her family's pack is powerful in New York and Boston, but she married outside the pack and without her father's permission,” Tony continued, his voice slowly gaining some confidence. “She was disowned, and when she died they made it clear I had no place with them.”
Gibbs heard the old hurt in the younger man's words. He knew this was one of the sources of the lost and lonely look that had drawn him in years ago. Tony had been a man looking for a place to belong. Conveniently, Gibbs had been a man looking for both a new team and someone to belong to him. Seeing the detective's people skills and sharp mind had made the decision to offer him a job easy, and that lost look had made its own place in Gibbs' pack. He couldn't do anything more about that hurt than he'd done before, so he continued to touch Tony, running fingers through brown hair and cupping the back of that long neck.
“It didn't matter then. Mom's brother was there to follow their father. He was still young, plenty of time for kids.” Tony's words paused as he let out a sarcastic huff of air. “Well, it seems somehow he blew the kids thing. He has exactly one child, a daughter, who's completely incapable of leading. Or so they're telling me. I'm guessing inbreeding did her in, but I don't have details.”
Eyes narrowing, Gibbs considered what Tony's family coming to him now might imply. His fingers tightened in the younger man's hair as though he feared the head under them was going to get away from him this moment. “Your uncle screwed up, so they're coming to you?”
Tony shuddered, his arm wrapping around Gibbs' calves in a tight grip. “Wants me to be his heir, come back and take care of the family pack. Says I don't have to join the company, they'll get me a job in one of the big city PDs, probably make chief someday.”
The growl was audible in Gibbs' chest before he could stop it. It was a tempting offer, he imagined. Tony had admitted to missing the high life of his childhood on more than one occasion. But the young man's gifts would be wasted as Chief of Police. And, though he wasn't ready to admit it aloud, Gibbs had no desire to let Tony go. He liked having the young man in his life. Tony was an excellent agent and an inventive lover. Gibbs had even considered offering the younger man the prestige of becoming his mate, an offer he hadn't made to anyone since Shannon died. But he had resisted so far, mostly because he had promised Tony there would always be an out if he wanted it. A mating bond would be harder to break than a pack bond, and Gibbs feared scaring Tony off if he tried to tie the younger man down. His record showed Tony had run from far weaker bonds in the past.
“How long have they been calling?” Gibbs finally asked, trying to shove his anger away and look at the matter rationally.
“My uncle showed up on my doorstep last weekend,” Tony admitted.
“You didn't tell me,” Gibbs said, trying not to sound accusing. Tony hadn't looked particularly off this week, so something had to have changed tonight. “You should have … what has he done since?”
“Calls. Calls. Calls,” Tony muttered. “Every night at home. I've been staying out to avoid them, but he must have gotten my cell number tonight. I ignored it, hung up, everything. He just kept calling, calling, calling.”
“Until you couldn't take it anymore,” Gibbs said understandingly. Stephanie had done the same thing to him every year on their anniversary for far too long. He went through at least two cell phones a year during that week, and had to call the phone company to repair the land line at least every other year. “Did you hurt yourself breaking the phone?”
Tony shook his head. “But then I couldn't be reached if there was a case,” he admitted shyly.
“You did the right thing, coming here,” Gibbs assured him. “But you should have come to me sooner. What did you tell him?”
“No!” Tony shouted, sitting up and looking at Gibbs for the first time since they sat down. “I don't want his pity, his people promoting me so I won't be an embarrassment as alpha. I … I'm happy here. I don't want to leave. I told him that, but he called us a pitiful excuse for a pack, said I belonged with his pack.”
This time Gibbs didn't even try to stop the growl, and he bared his teeth in disgust. He'd heard that attitude before. His childhood pack had been much the same. If you weren't from the right family, hadn't been in the pack for generations, then you were nothing. He had been too alpha to put up with the leading family, but from too minor a family for anyone to listen to him. He'd been the pup who challenged too early and lost for all the wrong reasons. So he left. In the marines, he'd found that the best pack was bound by trust as much as familial obedience. Shannon had agreed with him that it was a better way, and Gibbs had carried that ideal to NCIS when he switched venues.
And taught it to a young, lost detective from Baltimore. “If you don't want to leave, then you won't. Your place is here until you decide it isn't.” Gibbs gripped Tony's chin, tilting his head until their eyes met to push the words home.
“I wasn't sure,” Tony said hesitantly. “It is a good offer ...”
“You thought I'd tell you to take it?” Gibbs asked in disbelief. He'd thought he'd gotten Tony's self confidence to better levels than that. Or at least his confidence in Gibbs. “Mine,” he snapped, clamping a hand over the bruise he'd reinforced earlier, his mark for his pack. “Until you choose to walk away. Not me, not your uncle. You.”
For a moment, it looked like Tony was going to wilt in relief, but instead his spine stiffened and his face took on a look of calm competence. It wasn't a mask, though Tony had one that was similar. Gibbs could tell the difference between the cocky attitude that Tony exuded when he was scared and the true confidence that the alpha had worked so hard to teach the younger man.
“Yes, boss,” Tony said, managing to sound almost flippant.
Gibbs nodded. “Now, if you don't want to leave, it sounds like it's time we did something about this harassment.”
~o0o~
The plan had been approved, the location chosen, and the team assembled. Neutral ground, or rather the appearance of it, had been found. In fact, Gibbs was a close personal friend of the restaurant owner having saved the life of the man's son while they were in the marines. Michael owned one of the finest Italian restaurants in the DC area, and he was one of them. So when Gibbs requested a private room, discrete servers, and backup if everything went south, it had all been provided with no questions asked.
Tony had made the invitation to his uncle to meet for dinner and talk. He had not informed the older man just who would be present. When Gibbs informed his team of the situation, they had all insisted on attending. They had all suffered the descriptors of small, puny, and pathetic used on their pack, and this was their chance to prove otherwise.
Not only had they all insisted on attending, they were all wearing his mark and tops that left that bruise visible. Only Tony usually wore an overlapping layer of fading bruises; only he needed the regular reminder of where he belonged. Most of them had grown up in family packs and were secure in their place, except Ziva.
Ziva was the exception on many fronts, as she was not one of them. If Tom Morrow had stayed director a little longer Gibbs would have had time to seek out another for his pack the way he had the others. Tom knew what they were. Jen, however, just saddled them with Ziva not realizing the truth. Fortunately, Ziva knew what it was to be outside of normal society and had been desperately seeking a place to belong after being disillusioned with her family. She had accepted a place in the pack, Gibbs' mark, with some minor unease about the latter but over all with gratitude.
Gibbs felt smug as he looked at his team, his pack, gathered to protect one of their own. He did not hide his cocky smile when Benedict Rinaldi entered with three bodyguards at his back.
“Thank you all for coming,” Gibbs said politely, speaking first as alpha.
“What is this, Anthony?” Rinaldi demanded, looking straight at Tony and ignoring Gibbs.
Tony glanced at Gibbs, who nodded. Simpler to let Tony make introductions and save winding Rinaldi up for later. He'd pay for that slight, though.
“This is your chance to talk, but henceforth if you talk to me, you talk to my pack,” Tony replied firmly. “Our alpha, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” Tony gestured at each as he named them. “My fellow agents, Timothy McGee and Ziva David. Forensic specialist Abigale Scuto. Dr. Donald Mallard, ME, and his assistant, James Palmer. And of course you know my name.”
Rinaldi nodded in acknowledgment to Gibbs, but barely glanced at the others, save to note the bruises. “My assistant, Richard Campelli, and Gabriel and Gregorio Rinaldi.” He did not bother to indicate which of the men behind him he was naming, simply named them as though they were an afterthought, his main attention on Tony. The similarity of features and coloring marked them all as likely cousins, their identical gray suits marked them as businessmen, and nothing gave a hint as to who was who.
“Please, sit. The chef has prepared a feast for us,” Tony said like a gracious host. “It would be a shame to waste all his hard work.”
It seemed Rinaldi was a sufficient connoisseur of food to take a hint, and he and his men sat. Gibbs manipulated the seating, placing Tony next to himself but interspersing his pack between the interlopers, the ladies at their flirty best on either side of the head man himself.
The menu was fixed, another measure of control on Gibbs part which earned him an appraising look from Rinaldi. The servers proffered the antipasto appetizers in silence.
Initial conversation was light, disconnected to the reason for their presence together out of respect for the food. It wasn't until the main course, seafood scampi over linguine pasta, was served that Rinaldi tripped over the mine Gibbs had placed at his side.
“You name, Ziva, is very unusual. Where is your family from?”
Ziva smiled her shark smile and replied, “Israel.”
“Ziva is our exchange agent from Mossad,” Tony added lightly.
“I am unfamiliar with that term,” Rinaldi admitted, earning points from Gibbs for admitting his lack of knowledge while losing points for his apparent lack of political knowhow.
“Mossad is the Israeli intelligence agency,” Ziva explained politely.
“Ah. And how did a foreign intelligence operative end up at NCIS?” Rinaldi asked.
At least he remembered the name of their agency, Gibbs thought to himself.
“NCIS became interested in a liaison officer, and I requested the transfer to Gibbs' team, knowing there was an opening,” Ziva said.
“Why this team?”
“Previous exposure?” Abby suggested lightly.
“I suppose you could say that,” Ziva agreed. “I was running an undercover operative who became ensnared with Gibbs' team.”
“Try obsessed,” Gibbs grumbled.
“He had something of a fondness for challenges, the bigger the better,” Ducky added.
Ziva sighed wistfully. “True. He should have known better.”
“I admit I am confused,” Rinaldi admitted.
“Try completely lost,” one of his companions added with a furrowed brow.
“Our undercover operative had infiltrated Hammas and was attempting to infiltrate Al Qaeda,” Ziva answered. “Unfortunately, after he killed one of Gibbs' agents we realized he was actually a Hammas agent who was undercover in Mossad.”
“Didn't take me that long,” Gibbs sniped, though he knew it was still a sore spot for Ziva.
“What happened to him?” Rinaldi asked, his brow furrowed.
“He found out what I do to people who mess with my pack,” Gibbs answered forcefully.
“Pity it's so hard to get bloodstains out of concrete,” Tony said flippantly.
Gibbs knew he'd need to provide Ziva some support after tonight. Maybe he could convince Abby to take the Mossad officer home. They had become good friends of late. A glance at the goth got Gibbs a broad smile and a shared look toward Ziva. A wink assured Gibbs that Abby had her orders and Gibbs smiled tightly back.
Rinaldi seemed to get the point, and the topic changed to the weather in the DC area and other innocuous topics until dessert had been served.
However, with the coffee, and perhaps the power returned with the choice to choose his own dessert, Rinaldi decided it was time to get down to business. “Enough games,” he said, setting his espresso cup down with a clatter of porcelain.
“Fine,” Gibbs said before Rinaldi could continue. “I hate games. So explain to me why you thought it appropriate to go courting my second in command without permission.”
“I need no permission,” Rinaldi protested. “Anthony is a Rinaldi by blood.”
“You denied any claim to blood at his mother's funeral,” Gibbs snapped back. “And even if you had such a claim, to intrude on another alpha's territory without permission is simple bad manners. Even the backwater pack I grew up in knew better than that.”
Such a claim of bad manners made Rinaldi growl, and Gibbs was glad to see the other alpha losing his cool. “Why should I care of the opinion of a two bit alpha with delusions of grandeur?” Rinaldi snapped. “Your pack is tiny, you have no influence, and the only hint of importance you have is my sister's son.”
“Oh, so now she's your sister again,” Tony said in a surly tone. “At her funeral you called her a whore and an embarrassment to the family. You said I was unworthy my first shift and should have been drowned at birth.”
“And you wonder why he doesn't wish to go with you, really,” Ducky cut in. “I've had experience with many packs, and even the most primitive cultures have more respect for familial connections than that. Why, I knew a pack in Papua New Guinea ...”
“Ducky,” Gibbs said, cutting the ME off before he could really get going.
“Right. Sorry, Jethro,” Ducky said. “However, the point stands.”
“He is my sister's son,” Rinaldi insisted. “What I might have said decades ago in the heat of grief is irrelevant.”
“What you dared to say to your own nephew is never irrelevant,” Gibbs countered. “But we will look beyond that for now. Why come back to him after all these years? Why are you suddenly so desperate? Are there no dominant young men in your pack who would welcome such an offer?”
“Our pack has been led by a Rinaldi for as long as history remembers,” Rinaldi said snottily.
“Tony's a DiNozzo,” Abby pointed out haughtily, bringing a twinkle to the eyes of her team with her imitation of Rinaldi.
“Didn't you say two of your people were Rinaldi's too?” Jimmy added hesitantly.
“Distant cousins,” Rinaldi said dismissively, ignoring the frowns that crossed the faces of his three companions. “Anthony is my sister's son. He can claim her name.”
“Why don't you have any of your own children?” Tim cut in pointedly. After all, he was the one who'd found out the truth about Rinaldi's children.
“I have not been so blessed,” Rinaldi said through gritted teeth.
“No, you just have no luck,” Tony said. “Two legitimate sons, from you first wife. All three killed in a car crash. Three illegitimate sons, from three different mistresses. One killed in a driveby, one died by drug overdose, one in prison. One legitimate daughter, from your second wife. She's been in an institution since she was fourteen.”
“Seems you don't have the child rearing knack,” Ziva said offhandedly.
“I blame inbreeding,” Tony snarked. “They were all distant cousins. At least Mom married outside the bloodline.”
“Perhaps,” Rinaldi spat. “That is not relevant right now. All that matters is you are next in line. Our pack needs a leader.”
“And there are no other competent, leadership prone young men in your pack?” Tim asked. “My family's pack cycles leadership to keep the bloodlines fresh.”
“We have always been led by a Rinaldi,” Rinaldi insisted.
Gibbs shot the poor excuse for an alpha a disbelieving look and said, “So, because you are a poor specimen of a father, Tony gets to change his name, move to another city, leave his job, his friends ...”
“My lover?” Tony cut in dryly.
“Your father was a poor excuse for a man,” Rinaldi pointed out. “Do you really have much of a sentimental attachment to his name?” Tony just huffed. “We'll find you a job, either with the company of if you prefer to stay in law enforcement there are excellent opportunities in New York.”
“Oh yes, the family getting me made police chief,” Tony drolled.
“It would be an excellent opportunity,” Rinaldi insisted. “You can stay in touch with your friends, even bring your lover. A proper wife of the right antecedents would be found for you, but there's no reason you couldn't keep a mistress.”
Rinaldi stopped speaking as the entire team let out strangled coughs, covering wild laughter. Tony didn't bother hiding his laughter. “I don't know, boss. You wanna come to New York and be a kept man?”
Gibbs met Rinaldi's eyes, alpha to alpha, and watched his lover's uncle blanch. “Eh, we'd both be bored inside of a week,” Gibbs said offhandedly. “And I don't think your new pack would take kindly to their new alpha submitting to someone else.” He reached out a hand and wrapped it around the back of Tony's neck, projecting his ownership as he trapped Rinaldi's eyes.
“I've been telling you this for weeks,” Tony snapped, leaning into Gibbs' touch. “I'm not going anywhere. I love working for NCIS, and this is the pack I want.”
“Special Agent Gibbs,” Rinaldi said, ignoring Tony, “surely you realize this is a better opportunity for Tony. He could have everything his father denied him, rank and power commensurate with his worth.”
Tony snorted. “My father disowned me because I couldn't make you change your mind about disowning me, and because I made the mistake of telling him I wanted to invite my boyfriend to a company event. I want nothing he could have given me, and nothing you might be offering. You lost your chance at me when you slapped me at Mother's funeral.”
Gibbs tightened his hand on Tony's neck, rubbing his thumb along the tendon that was vibrating with tension. “You have your points, I suppose. I'm a simple man, and all that power and rank means little. But I promised Tony from day one it would be his choice when to leave, and I see no reason to break that promise.”
“Anthony,” Rinaldi began, but Tony cut him off with a growl.
“I'm not going anywhere. This is my home and this is the only pack I want. Maybe if you hadn't thrown me away ... but we'll never know now, will we?”
“You'd throw away your rightful future for this pathetic excuse for a pack?” Rinaldi snapped.
The entire pack growled at that, Ziva included. “We are not pathetic,” Abby bit out.
“We are not techy,” Tim added.
Jimmy continued, “Or impotent.”
“We have more power than you might imagine,” Ducky said.
“NCIS is more than a bush league agency,” Ziva cut in pointedly. Anyone who knew her couldn't miss the hand hovering near her hidden knife.
“Ask the FBI,” Tony said with a smirk. “We have a tendency to solve their cases for them.”
“We just don't brag about it,” Gibbs finished.
“Here's the deal,” Tony said, leaning forward with a serious expression, shaking off Gibbs' hand. “This is your last chance to speak politely. Come after me again, in any way, and you find out how powerful we are. Between the restraining order, the stalking complaints, and the politicians we'll be warning about you, you'll never do business in this town again.”
“You would dare do that to your family?” Rinaldi spat.
Tony rose to his feet, his hands on the table as he leaned forward with narrowed eyes, looming over Rinaldi. “You are not my family. You disowned my mother. You made your opinion of me clear at her funeral. You should have been more careful to plan ahead rather than burning your bridges.”
“You ungrateful little brat!” Rinaldi snapped, his arm reaching out to grasp Tony's collar. Apparently the dominant position was too much for him.
Gibbs shot a hand out to grip Rinadli's wrist just as Tony gripped his uncle's hand. Rinaldi's companions stood with growls but were stopped by Ziva, Tim, and an ex-marine who had served the coffee.
“Get off my territory,” Gibbs ordered Rinaldi.
Rinaldi's eyes bounced to Tony, who glared back. “You heard the boss.”
“You'll regret this,” Rinaldi spat after releasing Tony and being released in turn.
“I doubt it,” Tony taunted. “You, on the other hand ...”
The servers must have informed the owner because Michael stepped into the room just then. “Something wrong, gentlemen?” he said, a few more servers forming up behind him.
“No,” Gibbs said. “Not yet ...”
“Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Michael said lightly, but his expression was hard. “Mr. Rinaldi, I allowed you within my establishment as a favor to an old friend. Please know you and yours are no longer welcome here. Now get out.”
Rinaldi blanched at Michael’s words, realizing just who he had pissed off. Politicians dined at Michael’s restaurant regularly, and being banished would inhibit Rinaldi's political clout in a number of subtle but important ways. He glared at Tony and Gibbs but quickly stalked out, his bodyguards at his heels, all herded by a few of Michael’s servers.
“You could have warned me you were confronting Rinaldi,” Michael complained once the restaurant was clear.
“You could have asked who we were confronting,” Gibbs countered.
Michael huffed but tipped his head slightly, baring his neck to indicate Gibbs had won that saly. “Well, what's done is done. Don't let that lot ruin your appetites. Finish your desserts and get your money's worth,” Michael suggested before returning to his kitchen.
The team sat, finished their desserts as suggested, and shared grins. They had won a pack spat against a powerful opponent. Gibbs didn't begrudge them their pride. Rinaldi would likely be trouble down the road, but Tony had only begun to list the ways they could make the other alpha's life miserable, so Gibbs wasn't too worried. It would work out, with Tony at his side.
“I'm sorry your mother's relatives turned out so poorly, Tony,” Ducky proffered at one point.
Tony shrugged. “Got over it long ago.”
“He's got a point,” Tim couldn't resist saying. “We've all got family outside this pack, but you ...”
A glare from Gibbs cut Tim off. Ziva let out a disgusted huff at the same time.
“There's family you're born to, and there's family you choose,” Tony said. “Sometimes you get lucky on both, but not all of us are so blessed.”
“An excellent point,” Ducky said, raising his glass with the last of his wine. “To family you choose.”
Author: triskellion
Written for: kaylashay81
Prompt: DiNozzo-centric (gen/het/slash; all ratings acceptable); There's your birth family and there's the family you make. (no Tony/Ziva)
Archive: Sure. Just ask.
Genre: Drama
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Word Count: 5330
Summary: Part of Tony's past has come back to haunt him, though it's by no means his fault. The whole pack is ready to back him up.
Author's Note: I wrote this for a ficathon ages ago, but never posted it to my journal. So here it is.
To those readers familiar with my Shifter AU Home, this is not in that series. Yes, the characters are shifters of some sort, but the rules are a bit different, as are who's what. Just wanted to make that clear.
Gibbs looked up with a raised eyebrow when Tony appeared at the top of the basement stairs, but when Tony stayed silent, the older man went back to his sanding without a word.
Time passed. Tony started out sitting on the stairs, then came down to the floor and began poking around the work benches. Gibbs finally decided to speak up when the younger agent started pacing around the boat, his shoulders hunched as though he were trapped in a cage instead of being free to leave at any time. The older man almost expected the younger to shift form and pace on all fours.
“What happened?” Gibbs barked as Tony passed him yet again.
Tony didn't speak, didn't even pause at the sound of Gibbs' voice, just continued his circuit of the room.
Gibbs didn't like being ignored under the best of circumstances. Late at night it always made him cranky, but when being ignored by the one man he could usually trust to always do as he said, it flat out pissed him off. Gibbs caught the younger man by the arm as he passed on his next circuit, pulling Tony to a stop. “What happened?” Gibbs growled right into the younger man's ear.
That got Tony's attention, but not any positive reaction. Tony curled into himself, hunching up into a ball as much was possible while still standing, but his eyes fixed on Gibbs. He looked like he expected his alpha to attack at any moment.
“Talk to me, Tony,” Gibbs urged more gently. He loosened his hand to more of a supportive grip instead of a bruising one. Attack was not on his mind.
“You ordered me to never be unreachable,” Tony muttered and fell silent again, his eyes now on his toes. His head was down, chin protecting his throat. It wasn't the submission Gibbs craved and Tony usually gave so readily. To a normal human it might seem like just a defensive move, but to someone like Gibbs it was almost as much of a challenge as staring would be.
“Yeah?” Gibbs prompted. He couldn't imagine what could have upset Tony so much to throw off the easy dynamic they'd shared since the NCIS agent had found the, then, Baltimore Detective.
Not saying anything further, Tony pulled his shattered cell phone from his pocket and dumped it in Gibbs' free hand. Gibbs let the younger agent go in order to have both hands to manipulate the cell phone's remains, and as soon as he was free Tony began pacing again. Trying to think like a human and not a wolf, Gibbs let the challenge go, for now.
The phone hadn't just been dropped or stepped on. Someone had deliberately and repeatedly hit it until both the case and circuit boards had broken into multiple pieces. Gibbs wasn't sure even Abby could get something from it. “What happened?” he asked again.
“They wouldn't stop calling,” Tony snapped. Had he been in wolf form, his hackles would have been up. As a human, his shoulders were hunched oddly and there was a manic light in his eyes.
“Who?” Gibbs was confused. He knew his younger agent had problems with his father and the occasional stalker ex, but nothing had ever triggered such an extreme reaction. Gibbs was the one who was known for randomly destroying his phones. Tony had been using the same phone since the replacement after the plague incident.
Tony turned to Gibbs, leaning onto the boat, his face a mask of indecision and pain. “My mother's pack,” he snarled.
Gibbs sighed. Tony was too worked up to explain simply, and it was too late in the night for Gibbs to have the patience to drag the story out of the younger man, growl by growl. Instead, he made a guess. He walked around the boat and pulled Tony into his arms, ignoring the stiff muscles that resisted molding themselves against his body as they usually did. Gibbs leaned into Tony's neck, sniffing deeply and brushing his nose down Tony's neck from ear to shoulder. At the junction of neck and shoulder, Gibbs nuzzled aside the collar of a shirt that probably cost as much as a week's pay before sinking his teeth into the flesh below.
Tony struggled for a moment, trying to push away. But it was a weak attempt, more a reflex of his defensive mood than anything else. The longer Gibbs' teeth gripped, the more Tony relaxed, melting against the older man until Gibbs was all that held them up. Only once Tony's nose touched Gibbs' shoulder did the older man release his bite.
Raising his head, Gibbs looked over his handiwork. The flesh was mottled with layers of bruises, overlapping teeth marks left over weeks, months, years. He had left the first bruise there the day they had met, a reminder of his promise.
“You are mine,” he whispered, echoing that old promise, “as long as you want to be. Do you want to leave, Tony?”
Tony struggled a little, pushing himself upright on his own legs, though his hands on Gibbs' chest were still a major point of support, and shook his head.
“Say it,” Gibbs ordered. That was his requirement. He would protect Tony, accept Tony, but the younger man had to ask for it, acknowledge it aloud.
“I want to be here, be yours,” Tony whispered. His eyes were fixed on his hands where they pressed against Gibbs' sweatshirt, but this time his chin was tilted to the side, baring his throat on the bruised side.
Gibbs leaned in and nipped Tony lightly over the jugular, accepting the submission. “Then you are,” he said reassuringly. In silence, he wrapped an arm around the younger man's waist and led the way up the stairs to the living room. Once Gibbs took his place on the couch, Tony curled up at the older man's feet, his head on Gibbs' knee. It was a position that Gibbs had been trying to break the younger man of, as he was more than willing to accept Tony as closer to an equal. Some event in his childhood that Tony still wouldn't talk about had left the otherwise strong agent prone to taking comfort in this pose, and tonight Gibbs decided not to start the argument again. Instead, he began running his fingers through Tony's hair.
Waiting in silence, Gibbs studied how Tony slowly stiffened again, his body becoming less of a puddle of human while still remaining molded around Gibbs' form. This was how it should be. Gibbs' fingers running through Tony's brown hair seemed to keep the younger man from becoming as tense as before, and when Tony was ready he would start talking. At least, normally he would. Gibbs hoped that would stay true. He didn't want to have to push too much more tonight. It might damage their relationship.
Fortunately, Gibbs read the situation right. Again.
“My mother was one of us, my father wasn't,” Tony said softly.
“So you told me,” Gibbs said encouragingly when the younger man paused.
“Her family's pack is powerful in New York and Boston, but she married outside the pack and without her father's permission,” Tony continued, his voice slowly gaining some confidence. “She was disowned, and when she died they made it clear I had no place with them.”
Gibbs heard the old hurt in the younger man's words. He knew this was one of the sources of the lost and lonely look that had drawn him in years ago. Tony had been a man looking for a place to belong. Conveniently, Gibbs had been a man looking for both a new team and someone to belong to him. Seeing the detective's people skills and sharp mind had made the decision to offer him a job easy, and that lost look had made its own place in Gibbs' pack. He couldn't do anything more about that hurt than he'd done before, so he continued to touch Tony, running fingers through brown hair and cupping the back of that long neck.
“It didn't matter then. Mom's brother was there to follow their father. He was still young, plenty of time for kids.” Tony's words paused as he let out a sarcastic huff of air. “Well, it seems somehow he blew the kids thing. He has exactly one child, a daughter, who's completely incapable of leading. Or so they're telling me. I'm guessing inbreeding did her in, but I don't have details.”
Eyes narrowing, Gibbs considered what Tony's family coming to him now might imply. His fingers tightened in the younger man's hair as though he feared the head under them was going to get away from him this moment. “Your uncle screwed up, so they're coming to you?”
Tony shuddered, his arm wrapping around Gibbs' calves in a tight grip. “Wants me to be his heir, come back and take care of the family pack. Says I don't have to join the company, they'll get me a job in one of the big city PDs, probably make chief someday.”
The growl was audible in Gibbs' chest before he could stop it. It was a tempting offer, he imagined. Tony had admitted to missing the high life of his childhood on more than one occasion. But the young man's gifts would be wasted as Chief of Police. And, though he wasn't ready to admit it aloud, Gibbs had no desire to let Tony go. He liked having the young man in his life. Tony was an excellent agent and an inventive lover. Gibbs had even considered offering the younger man the prestige of becoming his mate, an offer he hadn't made to anyone since Shannon died. But he had resisted so far, mostly because he had promised Tony there would always be an out if he wanted it. A mating bond would be harder to break than a pack bond, and Gibbs feared scaring Tony off if he tried to tie the younger man down. His record showed Tony had run from far weaker bonds in the past.
“How long have they been calling?” Gibbs finally asked, trying to shove his anger away and look at the matter rationally.
“My uncle showed up on my doorstep last weekend,” Tony admitted.
“You didn't tell me,” Gibbs said, trying not to sound accusing. Tony hadn't looked particularly off this week, so something had to have changed tonight. “You should have … what has he done since?”
“Calls. Calls. Calls,” Tony muttered. “Every night at home. I've been staying out to avoid them, but he must have gotten my cell number tonight. I ignored it, hung up, everything. He just kept calling, calling, calling.”
“Until you couldn't take it anymore,” Gibbs said understandingly. Stephanie had done the same thing to him every year on their anniversary for far too long. He went through at least two cell phones a year during that week, and had to call the phone company to repair the land line at least every other year. “Did you hurt yourself breaking the phone?”
Tony shook his head. “But then I couldn't be reached if there was a case,” he admitted shyly.
“You did the right thing, coming here,” Gibbs assured him. “But you should have come to me sooner. What did you tell him?”
“No!” Tony shouted, sitting up and looking at Gibbs for the first time since they sat down. “I don't want his pity, his people promoting me so I won't be an embarrassment as alpha. I … I'm happy here. I don't want to leave. I told him that, but he called us a pitiful excuse for a pack, said I belonged with his pack.”
This time Gibbs didn't even try to stop the growl, and he bared his teeth in disgust. He'd heard that attitude before. His childhood pack had been much the same. If you weren't from the right family, hadn't been in the pack for generations, then you were nothing. He had been too alpha to put up with the leading family, but from too minor a family for anyone to listen to him. He'd been the pup who challenged too early and lost for all the wrong reasons. So he left. In the marines, he'd found that the best pack was bound by trust as much as familial obedience. Shannon had agreed with him that it was a better way, and Gibbs had carried that ideal to NCIS when he switched venues.
And taught it to a young, lost detective from Baltimore. “If you don't want to leave, then you won't. Your place is here until you decide it isn't.” Gibbs gripped Tony's chin, tilting his head until their eyes met to push the words home.
“I wasn't sure,” Tony said hesitantly. “It is a good offer ...”
“You thought I'd tell you to take it?” Gibbs asked in disbelief. He'd thought he'd gotten Tony's self confidence to better levels than that. Or at least his confidence in Gibbs. “Mine,” he snapped, clamping a hand over the bruise he'd reinforced earlier, his mark for his pack. “Until you choose to walk away. Not me, not your uncle. You.”
For a moment, it looked like Tony was going to wilt in relief, but instead his spine stiffened and his face took on a look of calm competence. It wasn't a mask, though Tony had one that was similar. Gibbs could tell the difference between the cocky attitude that Tony exuded when he was scared and the true confidence that the alpha had worked so hard to teach the younger man.
“Yes, boss,” Tony said, managing to sound almost flippant.
Gibbs nodded. “Now, if you don't want to leave, it sounds like it's time we did something about this harassment.”
~o0o~
The plan had been approved, the location chosen, and the team assembled. Neutral ground, or rather the appearance of it, had been found. In fact, Gibbs was a close personal friend of the restaurant owner having saved the life of the man's son while they were in the marines. Michael owned one of the finest Italian restaurants in the DC area, and he was one of them. So when Gibbs requested a private room, discrete servers, and backup if everything went south, it had all been provided with no questions asked.
Tony had made the invitation to his uncle to meet for dinner and talk. He had not informed the older man just who would be present. When Gibbs informed his team of the situation, they had all insisted on attending. They had all suffered the descriptors of small, puny, and pathetic used on their pack, and this was their chance to prove otherwise.
Not only had they all insisted on attending, they were all wearing his mark and tops that left that bruise visible. Only Tony usually wore an overlapping layer of fading bruises; only he needed the regular reminder of where he belonged. Most of them had grown up in family packs and were secure in their place, except Ziva.
Ziva was the exception on many fronts, as she was not one of them. If Tom Morrow had stayed director a little longer Gibbs would have had time to seek out another for his pack the way he had the others. Tom knew what they were. Jen, however, just saddled them with Ziva not realizing the truth. Fortunately, Ziva knew what it was to be outside of normal society and had been desperately seeking a place to belong after being disillusioned with her family. She had accepted a place in the pack, Gibbs' mark, with some minor unease about the latter but over all with gratitude.
Gibbs felt smug as he looked at his team, his pack, gathered to protect one of their own. He did not hide his cocky smile when Benedict Rinaldi entered with three bodyguards at his back.
“Thank you all for coming,” Gibbs said politely, speaking first as alpha.
“What is this, Anthony?” Rinaldi demanded, looking straight at Tony and ignoring Gibbs.
Tony glanced at Gibbs, who nodded. Simpler to let Tony make introductions and save winding Rinaldi up for later. He'd pay for that slight, though.
“This is your chance to talk, but henceforth if you talk to me, you talk to my pack,” Tony replied firmly. “Our alpha, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” Tony gestured at each as he named them. “My fellow agents, Timothy McGee and Ziva David. Forensic specialist Abigale Scuto. Dr. Donald Mallard, ME, and his assistant, James Palmer. And of course you know my name.”
Rinaldi nodded in acknowledgment to Gibbs, but barely glanced at the others, save to note the bruises. “My assistant, Richard Campelli, and Gabriel and Gregorio Rinaldi.” He did not bother to indicate which of the men behind him he was naming, simply named them as though they were an afterthought, his main attention on Tony. The similarity of features and coloring marked them all as likely cousins, their identical gray suits marked them as businessmen, and nothing gave a hint as to who was who.
“Please, sit. The chef has prepared a feast for us,” Tony said like a gracious host. “It would be a shame to waste all his hard work.”
It seemed Rinaldi was a sufficient connoisseur of food to take a hint, and he and his men sat. Gibbs manipulated the seating, placing Tony next to himself but interspersing his pack between the interlopers, the ladies at their flirty best on either side of the head man himself.
The menu was fixed, another measure of control on Gibbs part which earned him an appraising look from Rinaldi. The servers proffered the antipasto appetizers in silence.
Initial conversation was light, disconnected to the reason for their presence together out of respect for the food. It wasn't until the main course, seafood scampi over linguine pasta, was served that Rinaldi tripped over the mine Gibbs had placed at his side.
“You name, Ziva, is very unusual. Where is your family from?”
Ziva smiled her shark smile and replied, “Israel.”
“Ziva is our exchange agent from Mossad,” Tony added lightly.
“I am unfamiliar with that term,” Rinaldi admitted, earning points from Gibbs for admitting his lack of knowledge while losing points for his apparent lack of political knowhow.
“Mossad is the Israeli intelligence agency,” Ziva explained politely.
“Ah. And how did a foreign intelligence operative end up at NCIS?” Rinaldi asked.
At least he remembered the name of their agency, Gibbs thought to himself.
“NCIS became interested in a liaison officer, and I requested the transfer to Gibbs' team, knowing there was an opening,” Ziva said.
“Why this team?”
“Previous exposure?” Abby suggested lightly.
“I suppose you could say that,” Ziva agreed. “I was running an undercover operative who became ensnared with Gibbs' team.”
“Try obsessed,” Gibbs grumbled.
“He had something of a fondness for challenges, the bigger the better,” Ducky added.
Ziva sighed wistfully. “True. He should have known better.”
“I admit I am confused,” Rinaldi admitted.
“Try completely lost,” one of his companions added with a furrowed brow.
“Our undercover operative had infiltrated Hammas and was attempting to infiltrate Al Qaeda,” Ziva answered. “Unfortunately, after he killed one of Gibbs' agents we realized he was actually a Hammas agent who was undercover in Mossad.”
“Didn't take me that long,” Gibbs sniped, though he knew it was still a sore spot for Ziva.
“What happened to him?” Rinaldi asked, his brow furrowed.
“He found out what I do to people who mess with my pack,” Gibbs answered forcefully.
“Pity it's so hard to get bloodstains out of concrete,” Tony said flippantly.
Gibbs knew he'd need to provide Ziva some support after tonight. Maybe he could convince Abby to take the Mossad officer home. They had become good friends of late. A glance at the goth got Gibbs a broad smile and a shared look toward Ziva. A wink assured Gibbs that Abby had her orders and Gibbs smiled tightly back.
Rinaldi seemed to get the point, and the topic changed to the weather in the DC area and other innocuous topics until dessert had been served.
However, with the coffee, and perhaps the power returned with the choice to choose his own dessert, Rinaldi decided it was time to get down to business. “Enough games,” he said, setting his espresso cup down with a clatter of porcelain.
“Fine,” Gibbs said before Rinaldi could continue. “I hate games. So explain to me why you thought it appropriate to go courting my second in command without permission.”
“I need no permission,” Rinaldi protested. “Anthony is a Rinaldi by blood.”
“You denied any claim to blood at his mother's funeral,” Gibbs snapped back. “And even if you had such a claim, to intrude on another alpha's territory without permission is simple bad manners. Even the backwater pack I grew up in knew better than that.”
Such a claim of bad manners made Rinaldi growl, and Gibbs was glad to see the other alpha losing his cool. “Why should I care of the opinion of a two bit alpha with delusions of grandeur?” Rinaldi snapped. “Your pack is tiny, you have no influence, and the only hint of importance you have is my sister's son.”
“Oh, so now she's your sister again,” Tony said in a surly tone. “At her funeral you called her a whore and an embarrassment to the family. You said I was unworthy my first shift and should have been drowned at birth.”
“And you wonder why he doesn't wish to go with you, really,” Ducky cut in. “I've had experience with many packs, and even the most primitive cultures have more respect for familial connections than that. Why, I knew a pack in Papua New Guinea ...”
“Ducky,” Gibbs said, cutting the ME off before he could really get going.
“Right. Sorry, Jethro,” Ducky said. “However, the point stands.”
“He is my sister's son,” Rinaldi insisted. “What I might have said decades ago in the heat of grief is irrelevant.”
“What you dared to say to your own nephew is never irrelevant,” Gibbs countered. “But we will look beyond that for now. Why come back to him after all these years? Why are you suddenly so desperate? Are there no dominant young men in your pack who would welcome such an offer?”
“Our pack has been led by a Rinaldi for as long as history remembers,” Rinaldi said snottily.
“Tony's a DiNozzo,” Abby pointed out haughtily, bringing a twinkle to the eyes of her team with her imitation of Rinaldi.
“Didn't you say two of your people were Rinaldi's too?” Jimmy added hesitantly.
“Distant cousins,” Rinaldi said dismissively, ignoring the frowns that crossed the faces of his three companions. “Anthony is my sister's son. He can claim her name.”
“Why don't you have any of your own children?” Tim cut in pointedly. After all, he was the one who'd found out the truth about Rinaldi's children.
“I have not been so blessed,” Rinaldi said through gritted teeth.
“No, you just have no luck,” Tony said. “Two legitimate sons, from you first wife. All three killed in a car crash. Three illegitimate sons, from three different mistresses. One killed in a driveby, one died by drug overdose, one in prison. One legitimate daughter, from your second wife. She's been in an institution since she was fourteen.”
“Seems you don't have the child rearing knack,” Ziva said offhandedly.
“I blame inbreeding,” Tony snarked. “They were all distant cousins. At least Mom married outside the bloodline.”
“Perhaps,” Rinaldi spat. “That is not relevant right now. All that matters is you are next in line. Our pack needs a leader.”
“And there are no other competent, leadership prone young men in your pack?” Tim asked. “My family's pack cycles leadership to keep the bloodlines fresh.”
“We have always been led by a Rinaldi,” Rinaldi insisted.
Gibbs shot the poor excuse for an alpha a disbelieving look and said, “So, because you are a poor specimen of a father, Tony gets to change his name, move to another city, leave his job, his friends ...”
“My lover?” Tony cut in dryly.
“Your father was a poor excuse for a man,” Rinaldi pointed out. “Do you really have much of a sentimental attachment to his name?” Tony just huffed. “We'll find you a job, either with the company of if you prefer to stay in law enforcement there are excellent opportunities in New York.”
“Oh yes, the family getting me made police chief,” Tony drolled.
“It would be an excellent opportunity,” Rinaldi insisted. “You can stay in touch with your friends, even bring your lover. A proper wife of the right antecedents would be found for you, but there's no reason you couldn't keep a mistress.”
Rinaldi stopped speaking as the entire team let out strangled coughs, covering wild laughter. Tony didn't bother hiding his laughter. “I don't know, boss. You wanna come to New York and be a kept man?”
Gibbs met Rinaldi's eyes, alpha to alpha, and watched his lover's uncle blanch. “Eh, we'd both be bored inside of a week,” Gibbs said offhandedly. “And I don't think your new pack would take kindly to their new alpha submitting to someone else.” He reached out a hand and wrapped it around the back of Tony's neck, projecting his ownership as he trapped Rinaldi's eyes.
“I've been telling you this for weeks,” Tony snapped, leaning into Gibbs' touch. “I'm not going anywhere. I love working for NCIS, and this is the pack I want.”
“Special Agent Gibbs,” Rinaldi said, ignoring Tony, “surely you realize this is a better opportunity for Tony. He could have everything his father denied him, rank and power commensurate with his worth.”
Tony snorted. “My father disowned me because I couldn't make you change your mind about disowning me, and because I made the mistake of telling him I wanted to invite my boyfriend to a company event. I want nothing he could have given me, and nothing you might be offering. You lost your chance at me when you slapped me at Mother's funeral.”
Gibbs tightened his hand on Tony's neck, rubbing his thumb along the tendon that was vibrating with tension. “You have your points, I suppose. I'm a simple man, and all that power and rank means little. But I promised Tony from day one it would be his choice when to leave, and I see no reason to break that promise.”
“Anthony,” Rinaldi began, but Tony cut him off with a growl.
“I'm not going anywhere. This is my home and this is the only pack I want. Maybe if you hadn't thrown me away ... but we'll never know now, will we?”
“You'd throw away your rightful future for this pathetic excuse for a pack?” Rinaldi snapped.
The entire pack growled at that, Ziva included. “We are not pathetic,” Abby bit out.
“We are not techy,” Tim added.
Jimmy continued, “Or impotent.”
“We have more power than you might imagine,” Ducky said.
“NCIS is more than a bush league agency,” Ziva cut in pointedly. Anyone who knew her couldn't miss the hand hovering near her hidden knife.
“Ask the FBI,” Tony said with a smirk. “We have a tendency to solve their cases for them.”
“We just don't brag about it,” Gibbs finished.
“Here's the deal,” Tony said, leaning forward with a serious expression, shaking off Gibbs' hand. “This is your last chance to speak politely. Come after me again, in any way, and you find out how powerful we are. Between the restraining order, the stalking complaints, and the politicians we'll be warning about you, you'll never do business in this town again.”
“You would dare do that to your family?” Rinaldi spat.
Tony rose to his feet, his hands on the table as he leaned forward with narrowed eyes, looming over Rinaldi. “You are not my family. You disowned my mother. You made your opinion of me clear at her funeral. You should have been more careful to plan ahead rather than burning your bridges.”
“You ungrateful little brat!” Rinaldi snapped, his arm reaching out to grasp Tony's collar. Apparently the dominant position was too much for him.
Gibbs shot a hand out to grip Rinadli's wrist just as Tony gripped his uncle's hand. Rinaldi's companions stood with growls but were stopped by Ziva, Tim, and an ex-marine who had served the coffee.
“Get off my territory,” Gibbs ordered Rinaldi.
Rinaldi's eyes bounced to Tony, who glared back. “You heard the boss.”
“You'll regret this,” Rinaldi spat after releasing Tony and being released in turn.
“I doubt it,” Tony taunted. “You, on the other hand ...”
The servers must have informed the owner because Michael stepped into the room just then. “Something wrong, gentlemen?” he said, a few more servers forming up behind him.
“No,” Gibbs said. “Not yet ...”
“Let's keep it that way, shall we?” Michael said lightly, but his expression was hard. “Mr. Rinaldi, I allowed you within my establishment as a favor to an old friend. Please know you and yours are no longer welcome here. Now get out.”
Rinaldi blanched at Michael’s words, realizing just who he had pissed off. Politicians dined at Michael’s restaurant regularly, and being banished would inhibit Rinaldi's political clout in a number of subtle but important ways. He glared at Tony and Gibbs but quickly stalked out, his bodyguards at his heels, all herded by a few of Michael’s servers.
“You could have warned me you were confronting Rinaldi,” Michael complained once the restaurant was clear.
“You could have asked who we were confronting,” Gibbs countered.
Michael huffed but tipped his head slightly, baring his neck to indicate Gibbs had won that saly. “Well, what's done is done. Don't let that lot ruin your appetites. Finish your desserts and get your money's worth,” Michael suggested before returning to his kitchen.
The team sat, finished their desserts as suggested, and shared grins. They had won a pack spat against a powerful opponent. Gibbs didn't begrudge them their pride. Rinaldi would likely be trouble down the road, but Tony had only begun to list the ways they could make the other alpha's life miserable, so Gibbs wasn't too worried. It would work out, with Tony at his side.
“I'm sorry your mother's relatives turned out so poorly, Tony,” Ducky proffered at one point.
Tony shrugged. “Got over it long ago.”
“He's got a point,” Tim couldn't resist saying. “We've all got family outside this pack, but you ...”
A glare from Gibbs cut Tim off. Ziva let out a disgusted huff at the same time.
“There's family you're born to, and there's family you choose,” Tony said. “Sometimes you get lucky on both, but not all of us are so blessed.”
“An excellent point,” Ducky said, raising his glass with the last of his wine. “To family you choose.”