FIC: Please (Don't) Pet The Tony (1/2)
Title: Please (Don't) Pet The Tony
Author: rebecca
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He's in over his head.
Notes: A while ago, dustandroses made me some absolutely gorgeous icons for my LJ. I offered her fic in exchange, and it's taken me a while but this is what I came up with. Dusty, I really hope you like this!
Love and thanks to skripka for the beta.
Due to size constraints on LJ, I had to post this in two chunks. I'll link to part 2 at the bottom of this one.
They ran into the apartment, guns drawn, shouting. Ziva kicked open the door to one bedroom. "Clear," she shouted, looking around.
"Clear," McGee called from the living room.
Gibbs ran through the kitchen and slammed open the door to the bathroom. "Clear," he snapped, turning for the second bedroom. He kicked it open--and his heart nearly stopped when he saw Tony lying on the bed, out cold, a bruise on his temple and his chin bloody from a split lip. Tony's gun was on the floor, and from the scratches on his hands, he'd given as good as he'd gotten. "McGee!" Gibbs shouted. "Call the EMTs, tell them we've got a federal agent in distress! Ziva, radio in to the local LEOs, give 'em a description of Thompson and Richards." He didn't bother listening for their acknowledgments before holstering his gun and kneeling next to Tony, slapping his face lightly. "DiNozzo," he barked, worry making his voice sharper than he'd intended. "DiNozzo, wake up."
Tony groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "Boss?" he asked in confusion. "What--oh, fuck," he gasped before rolling onto his side and retching.
McGee ran in while Tony was vomiting; he winced in sympathy, looking worried. "EMTs are on their way, Boss," he said. "Five minutes."
Gibbs nodded. "Good. Tony, what happened?"
"Ugh." Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and managed to sit up, but he swayed dangerously and Gibbs caught him, easing him back down against the bed. "Two of them. One your height, one a little shorter. Wore black--ski masks and all. Wasn't a kidnapping--Thompson knew 'em. Think they signaled somehow, not sure how..." Tony's voice trailed off for a moment and he closed his eyes, clearly gathering his strength. "I winged one of 'em before I ended up fighting Richards for my gun--he got in a punch to the jaw, but I think I dislocated his shoulder. Then one of the goons in black cold-cocked me and I went down." He grimaced, raising a hand to his temple. "Feels like one of 'em kicked me in the gut, too," he said. "Sorry, Boss--"
"Four of them, one of you," Gibbs told him gruffly. "And you hurt two of them. We'll get 'em, Tony."
"Said something about Westbrook," Tony told him. "Something about the artifacts being there."
It meant nothing to Gibbs; he turned to McGee and Ziva, who'd come in by that point. "Westbrook?" he asked.
McGee frowned. "There's a Westbrook High School about twenty minutes from here," he said. "Only thing I know of in the area. And it's July, so odds are it's empty, or mostly."
"Thompson was a teacher," Ziva added.
Gibbs looked at him. "Call for backup," he said.
"Right." McGee touched Ziva's arm and they ran out.
"Shouldn't you go?" Tony asked, his words beginning to slur. "Instead of McGee or somethin'?"
"They'll call for backup, and I'm not leaving you until the EMTs check you over." Gibbs stood, glaring at Tony. "Understand?"
"Yes, Boss." Tony closed his eyes. "They'll make me go to th' hospital," he grumbled.
"Probably," Gibbs agreed.
"I hate th' hospital." Tony made a face.
"You passed out, DiNozzo, and you can't even sit up. You're going to the hospital. Deal with it." Gibbs glared at him--a look that ended up being somewhat wasted, since Tony had his eyes closed.
"No blue lights, okay?" Tony mumbled. "Damn things freak me out."
Gibbs felt his stomach clench at Tony's words. He remembered, all too clearly, Tony lying in the damn hospital bed, fighting for every breath he took, every rattle of his lungs. "No lights, Tony," he said, a little more sharply than he meant to. "Just the bright ones they'll shine in your eyes to make sure you didn't damage what passes for a brain."
Tony smiled a little. "Love you too, Boss," he said with a yawn.
"We'll see how much you love paperwork when you're stuck on a desk until that concussion heals," Gibbs told him.
"Only be a couple days. I've got a hard head."
"I know. I've had to drum enough into it." Just keep him talking, Gibbs knew. Keep him awake and lucid and talking.
"Thanks, Boss." Tony wrinkled his nose.
The EMTs ran in then, carrying their cases and zeroing in on Tony. Gibbs stepped out of their way and watched them examine Tony. No, he didn't have double vision--a little at first, but he was okay now. Yes, he'd vomited and yes, he was still nauseous. Yes, his head hurt, as did his stomach--one of the EMTs lifted Tony's shirt gently and Gibbs saw a bruise in the shape of a bootprint. His jaw tightened at the sight. Yes, Tony knew the date, the current President, and the starting roster of the Baltimore Orioles.
And yes, he was going to the hospital for a CT scan and tests to make sure the bruise on his stomach hadn't caused any internal problems. "We doubt it," the female EMT said, ripping off the blood pressure cuff. "His vitals are fine and it doesn't look like there's any problem. But it's SOP, and--do you have any idea how long he was unconscious?"
Gibbs thought back. It had been about five minutes from the time they'd gotten the alarm to the time they'd run in the door. Tony had said he'd fought, so--"No more than a few minutes," he said, shaking his head. "Three, four max?"
She nodded. "Good. Okay, Frank, let's get him on the gurney."
Gibbs went with them in the ambulance; there was just enough room and Ziva and McGee had taken the car anyway. Tony managed to stay awake for the ride, half-heartedly flirting with the female EMT, but he was fading fast.
The hospital swept him away, leaving Gibbs by the admissions desk. He gave them Tony's information--or as much as he knew--and was a bit surprised to discover that he was Tony's emergency contact. And then he was reduced to pacing, waiting for information on Tony, on Thompson and Richards, on anything.
His cell phone rang about ten minutes later and he went outside to answer it. "Yeah. Gibbs," he snapped.
"We got 'em, Boss," McGee said breathlessly. "Made it there just after they did--locals got there a minute after us. They're all in custody. Richards was moving like he'd just gotten his shoulder popped back into place and one of the other guys had a gunshot wound in his arm. Locals have them covered and I'm waiting for prisoner transport."
"Good work, McGee. I'll see you back at the office." Gibbs flipped off his phone and exhaled deeply. One down, now...Tony.
He couldn't go back into the hospital yet. Not when--Gibbs closed his eyes, thunking his head against the concrete wall of the hospital. "Fuck," he muttered. "Not again."
He didn't want to feel this way again. He didn't want to look at Tony and feel that need, that hunger to hold him and break him down, split him open...and then take care of him and put him back together. He didn't want it, any of it.
He couldn't feel this way.
It had been coming for a while, Gibbs knew, reluctantly acknowledging the truth. Every time Tony went undercover, every time he ended up in trouble, that pull got a little stronger, that need burned a little hotter. And now--but he couldn't. There were too many reasons why he couldn't, and no reason on earth that he could or even should.
"Damnit," he swore, before going back into the hospital.
"Agent Gibbs," the nurse said, walking briskly toward him. "This way."
He followed her back to one of the curtained areas, where Tony was half-reclining in the bed, a bandage on his temple. "I'm fine, Boss," Tony said brightly. "But they won't let me go home."
"We'd prefer to keep him overnight for observation," the doctor said, looking at Gibbs. "But we'll discharge him if someone will stay with him overnight and keep an eye on him."
Gibbs nodded. "He's all right otherwise?" he asked.
"Aside from a pretty severe concussion, various bruises, and a bootprint on his stomach, he's fine." The doctor smiled wryly, sliding her hands into the pockets of her coat. "No internal damage, nothing incredibly serious, but I want someone to keep an eye on him, and if he doesn't have someone at home--"
"I'll watch him," Gibbs interrupted.
"You mean McGee will, right?" Tony asked warily. "Or Ziva, or--"
"No, DiNozzo, I said I will. Knowing you, you'd talk McGee into leaving and I don't need Ziva in a snit. And you're not keeping Abby up all night." Gibbs glared at him, more than a bit amused when Tony visibly shrank back against the pillows. "I'll keep an eye on you."
"Good." The doctor smiled. "I'll go sign him out--we'll give you some painkillers, although nothing stronger than over-the-counters for the next twenty-four hours. You can take aspirin or ibuprofen, but Tylenol will probably be easier on your stomach." She patted Tony's calf under the blankets. "The nurse will help you get dressed."
"I've been dressing myself for--"
"Shut up and take the help," Gibbs told him. "I'll go call McGee and get him to come get us." He walked outside before he could lose what little control he had left.
Spending the night with Tony? Was he insane?
Gibbs rubbed his forehead and took out his phone. Apparently so.
McGee arrived about half an hour later, after making sure Thompson, Richards, and the other two goons were safely locked up. "We've got the high school cordoned off," he said. "Local LEOs are conducting a search for the artifacts now. Ziva's there, and I called in Cassie Yates--she was nearby. I'll go back to help once I take Tony home. You going back, Boss?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head. "DiNozzo needs someone to make sure he doesn't do something idiotic overnight, so I'm keeping an eye on him until morning. You go back and make sure everything gets handled properly." He smiled briefly. "Don't let Ziva eat the locals."
"I'll try, Boss." McGee grinned a little.
The nurse came outside, pushing the wheelchair with Tony in it. As soon as the doors closed, he got to his feet, swaying for one moment before gaining his balance and walking toward them. "Let's go," he said cheerfully. "Hey, Probie. Get the bastards?"
McGee nodded. "We got there a minute after they did, thanks to Ziva's driving."
"I'm amazed you're still in one piece." Tony snorted. "Let's go. My bed is calling me."
Gibbs took shotgun--but only after watching Tony slide into the backseat, stretching out as best he could. He'd have preferred to drive, except he really didn't want Tony to throw up again. So he resigned himself to dealing with McGee's sedate driving and looked out the window the whole drive back.
Tony had apparently dozed off; he woke up with a jerk when McGee parked outside his building. "Thanks, Probie," he said, clapping McGee on the shoulder. "Remind me to dump my paperwork on Ziva instead of you."
McGee rolled his eyes. "I'll believe it when I see it, Tony."
"Call me and keep me updated," Gibbs ordered McGee, getting out of the car. "No one goes home until all the "I"s are dotted, understand?"
"You got it, Boss." McGee nodded. Gibbs shut the door and thumped the top of the car, watching him drive off.
Gibbs turned to Tony, gripping his upper arm to steady him as he got out of the car and onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Boss," Tony said with a weak grin. "Not really feeling up to salsa dancing here."
"Yeah." Gibbs steered him toward the front door. "Come on, DiNozzo, let's get you inside."
"Yes, Boss." Tony dug out his keycard and got them in the front door, punching the call button for the elevator. Once inside, he slumped against the wall, gingerly touching his stomach. "Ow," he muttered.
Gibbs looked at him carefully; not thrilled with the pasty color of Tony's skin or the way he hunched over a bit, probably trying to ease the pain from the bruise on his stomach. "You have Tylenol, DiNozzo?" he asked.
Tony nodded. "From the last time I got whacked in the head." He grinned, but it was a poor imitation of his usual cheerful smile. "Way I feel now, aspirin'd probably make me retch."
"I'm not cleaning up after you," Gibbs told him.
"Thanks, Boss." Tony stepped off the elevator and turned to his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment, but managed to get the door unlocked just before Gibbs would have taken the keys out of his hands. "Welcome to Casa DiNozzo," he said, gesturing grandly. "I cleaned in honor of your arrival."
Gibbs snorted and walked in, inwardly amused that the place was clean. Tony apparently hadn't been kidding about having a maid, or cleaning lady, or whatever they were called these days. "Go change and get into bed, Tony," he said tiredly. "I'll get you some Tylenol."
Tony blinked. "I got it, Boss. Need to hit the john anyway." He walked off toward his bathroom, already beginning to pull off his shirt.
Alone in Tony's living room, Gibbs looked around, a little amused at the pillow and blanket on the couch, the DVDs stacked on his coffee table. Looked like Tony spent a few nights in his living room, rather than his bed.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out two bottles of water. Tony might not feel thirsty, but he needed something in his stomach. Gibbs figured he'd look around later for soup; for right now, he took the water and headed for Tony's bedroom.
"Boss!" Tony squawked, grabbing his pajama pants and shoving them in front of his crotch. "Knock, would you?"
"Unless you're not telling me something, I've seen it all before," Gibbs said, a little more roughly than he meant to.
"That's nice, but could you not see it again now?" Tony said, strangled.
Probably a good idea anyway, Gibbs thought, turning around. Tony was hurt, and not feeling well, and Christ but Gibbs needed to stop thinking of him as anything other than a subordinate.
"Thanks," Tony said a moment later. "I think."
Gibbs turned around again and held out the water bottle. "You probably need something to drink," he said.
"Yeah. I guess." Tony sat down on the edge of his bed, taking the bottle. "Thanks." He twisted off the cap and took a drink, licking water off his lower lip. Gibbs forced himself to look away, gritting his teeth. He did not need this.
Tony put the bottle down. "Um, Boss?" he asked carefully. "You don't have to stand here and watch me, you know."
"I know that, DiNozzo." Gibbs took a drink of his own water.
"Then...what are you still doing here?" Tony pulled his legs up onto the bed, settling under his comforter. He shoved the pillows behind his back and looked at Gibbs, confused.
Tony wasn't wearing a shirt, and with the way he was sitting in bed the outline of the bruise on his stomach was incredibly clear. Gibbs wondered who had done it, and if there would be a way to 'accidentally' return the favor.
"Get some sleep, Tony." Gibbs paused with his hand on the light switch. "I'll be here if you need me."
"Yeah." Tony's eyes were already closing. "Always are, Boss," he mumbled.
Gibbs turned off the light and left, leaving the door slightly open. "I know," he said quietly, walking back to the living room and Tony's ugly but comfortable couch. "I know, Tony."
He settled on the couch with his bottle of water. Looking at his watch, he figured he'd give McGee fifteen minutes before calling. In the meantime, he sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions. "I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself.
Not that it was new information, but it bore repeating, especially with him stuck at Tony's place for the night. Hopefully, if he stayed here and Tony stayed there, it'd be fine. He'd lasted this long; he could last longer.
Forever, if necessary.
Four minutes later, he was jolted out of his funk by his phone. "Gibbs," he barked into it.
"Boss, it's me. McGee."
"I know who you are, McGee. What's going on?"
"We found the stuff. The artifacts, I mean. They were in the basement of the high school. From what we've been able to gather, Richards had a change of heart about cooperating. We're still not sure how he signaled Collins and Razinni--those were the guys in black. None of them are talking. Collins is an ex-petty officer, Razinni was dishonorably discharged for unbecoming conduct. So once Tony got them to the safe house, Razinni and Collins broke in. The idea was to get Tony out of the way and go back for the stuff."
"So why didn't they just shoot him?" Gibbs asked.
"Not sure. Ziva's working on Thompson--if any of them are likely to break, it'll be him. Oh, and Razinni's the one who did most of the damage to Tony. He's currently shackled." McGee's voice held a note of grim pleasure and Gibbs held back a snort of approval.
"Good," he said instead.
"Thanks, Boss. How's Tony?"
"Asleep." Gibbs glanced in the direction of the bedroom. "He's fine."
"Good." McGee sounded relieved. "That's...that's good. Will he be in tomorrow?"
"He'll have to fill out an incident report, at least," Gibbs said. "After that, I don't know. Depends on whether he can stand up or not."
"Okay. So--um--I'll get back to everything," McGee said.
"Yeah. Keep me posted." Gibbs flipped off his phone and sighed. Realistically, he should be at the office and someone else--anyone else--should be with Tony. Or Tony should just have spent the night at the hospital. But Gibbs hadn't been able to leave him there, and he was just enough of a masochist to stay.
He propped his feet on the coffee table, dropping his head back against the couch. Maybe he could get a catnap, at least.
Gibbs didn't know how long it had been before he was jolted awake by the feel of someone sitting down next to him. He jumped slightly, turning to see Tony. "You should be in bed," he said gruffly.
"My head hurts too much to sleep and I can't get comfortable with this bootprint on my stomach anyway." Tony sighed. "And it's July 17, the president is Dubya--unlucky us. My name is Anthony Michael DiNozzo, and the best movie ever made was--well, there are too many of those to count."
Gibbs snorted. "You want anything to drink?" The irony of offering Tony a drink in his own apartment didn't escape him.
"I think I've got some juice in the fridge. That'd be good." Tony closed his eyes and propped his feet up next to Gibbs'.
"Okay." Gibbs pushed himself to his feet and walked into Tony's small kitchen. He opened the fridge, seeing a couple bottles of sports drinks, some random leftovers, and a quart of orange juice--which, surprisingly, wasn't empty.
It took him a moment to find the glasses; once he did, he poured Tony a glass of the juice and went back into the living room. "Here," he said, handing Tony the glass.
"Thanks, Boss." Their fingers brushed and Gibbs fought back the spark that ran through him.
Tony sipped the juice. "You want to watch a movie?" he offered.
"You up for that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"So long as we don't watch Aliens, I'm cool." Tony grinned and reached for the remote, wincing as he did. "Okay. I think…" He turned on the TV and pressed a couple other buttons. "I've got The African Queen in here," he said. "That cool with you?"
Bogart and Hepburn--electric combination and wonderful movie. "Sure," Gibbs said, picking up his bottle of water. Of course, it was also a romance, but he wasn't the date-movie type and frankly, he didn't think Tony was either.
He didn't really pay attention to the movie, keeping his attention split between Tony and the screen. About halfway through the movie, Tony's eyes began to droop closed; Gibbs wasn't surprised, any more than he was surprised when Tony began to snore softly. He leaned over and picked up the remote, figuring out how to shut off the DVD and the TV as well.
Tony made a snuffling sound and slumped down, lying sideways on the couch. His head brushed against Gibbs' thigh and his legs hung over the arm of the couch and one arm curled protectively over his stomach.
Gibbs closed his eyes. "Christ," he muttered. Almost without realizing it, he reached down, stroking Tony's hair gently. Tony murmured and turned into the caress, sighing a bit.
Fuck. Gibbs exhaled deeply and looked down at Tony, at the split lip and the bruise on his temple. He looked at his fingers in Tony's hair, and at Tony's skin in the soft light of the lamp.
And he fought back the hunger to hold Tony and caress him and tuck him into bed and make him comfortable. That wasn't going to get him anywhere but trouble.
Tony sighed and shifted again, ending up with his head on Gibbs' thigh. He turned to face the back of the couch, putting his lips perilously close to Gibbs' groin. Gibbs bit the inside of his cheek and thought of the case and Razinni in shackles, only shackles led to handcuffs led to black leather and Tony's skin and oh, fuck, he was in trouble.
Gibbs stood up carefully and rested Tony's head on the couch instead of his lap. Tony made an unhappy sound, reaching up like he was trying to find Gibbs. He settled down again with a groan. But even asleep, he didn't look happy about it.
There was an armchair nearby, an overstuffed thing that didn't match the couch but proved to be almost as comfortable when Gibbs sat down in it. He slumped down against the back and watched Tony shift restlessly in his sleep and told himself firmly that Tony was a grown man who was capable of sleeping without a teddy bear, human or stuffed.
Eventually, the day caught up with him and he let his own eyes fall shut, sleep wrapping around him softly and surely.
He woke up to the sound of a groan and a curse. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that the sun was starting to rise and Tony was stretched out on his back, one arm flung over his eyes and the other draped over his stomach. "I must be alive," he said with another groan. "I feel too horrible to be dead."
"Trust me, DiNozzo, if you were dead, I wouldn't be sitting in your armchair," Gibbs said, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just before six. "I'd be haunting your ass for being stupid enough to die."
"Is that what you--" Tony stopped abruptly and grimaced. "Sorry, Boss. What time is it?"
"Six," Gibbs said, knowing what Tony had been about to say and glad he hadn't. "Think you're up for a shower? Might help."
"Don't know." Tony pushed himself up painfully and stood up, bending over with one arm wrapped around his abdomen. "Maybe?"
"If maybe means you'll fall over in the tub, stick to no," Gibbs told him. "I'm not taking you back to the hospital."
That, and keeping his desire in check when faced with a wet, naked Tony was going to be all-but-impossible. Gibbs sighed and wished--again--that he'd let anyone else stay with Tony. Even Ziva.
"I'll be okay," Tony said, nodding. "Just needed to get my balance." He walked off toward the bathroom, and although Gibbs watched him closely, he didn't see anything to indicate that Tony was unsteady on his feet or about to fall over.
Gibbs calculated times and driving and figured that they could probably be at the office by seven, seven-fifteen at the outside. He had his kit there and could freshen up once they got in, and either McGee or Ziva could take Tony home once he filled out the incident report and had Ducky look him over.
Not that Gibbs didn't trust the doctor who had examined Tony yesterday. He just trusted Ducky more.
After about twenty minutes, the water shut off and Gibbs heard sounds of Tony moving around in his bedroom. But then he heard a groan, and a thud, and he was on his feet and in Tony's bedroom before he could think.
Tony was on his knees, holding his stomach protectively. The thud Gibbs had heard was probably the sound he'd made hitting the floor. He was naked, and his hair was wet, and Gibbs didn't know whether to yell at him or kiss him and put him to bed.
"DiNozzo, what happened?" he asked instead.
"I moved." Tony grimaced. "My stomach didn't like it, and neither did my head, and I lost my balance. Can you help me up?"
Gibbs swore under his breath and walked to Tony, crouching down next to him. "Sheer miracle you didn't fall in the shower," he muttered.
"I had a wall to lean against. Honestly, Boss, I just moved too fast." Tony gripped Gibbs' forearms, and as Gibbs stood Tony used him to pull himself to his feet.
"You're not moving outside this apartment," Gibbs told him. "You can fill out the report tomorrow or the day after, but you're taking a sick day today. I can't have you falling over every time you try to walk across the office." He tightened his jaw, ignoring the warmth from Tony's body, the peppermint scent of his soap or his shampoo, the beads of water on his shoulders. "Get back in bed, Tony," he said. "You're not going anywhere."
"Um." Tony swallowed. "I can--"
"Get back in bed," Gibbs repeated.
"Right." Tony swallowed again. "You have to let go of me first, Boss," he said after a moment.
Gibbs looked down. He hadn't realized he was still holding on to Tony--or that Tony was still holding on to him. "Yeah," he said, cursing his voice for being hoarser than he wanted. Slowly, he forced his hands to let go of Tony's arms.
But Tony didn't let go of him. "Boss," he said carefully. "Um."
"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"No, not really. Um." Tony looked away. "I have a concussion and a really, really sore stomach and I'm probably not operating at full capacity here, and I feel like someone ran me over with a steamroller--twice--and I know I should be protesting about you making me stay home but the truth is I'm kind of relieved about it." He exhaled deeply. "And if you don't kiss me I think I'm going to go insane."
Gibbs stared at him. "I think that knock on your head rattled your brain more than we thought," he said in shock.
"Or maybe it cleared up a few things." Tony licked his lips. "If you don't want me, tell me, and you can fire me or transfer me and we'll pretend I never made an idiot out of myself and--"
Gibbs kissed him.
Tony blinked at him, dazed, when the kiss ended. "Oh," he said softly. "So I'm not getting fired?"
"No." Gibbs tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the smile. "No, Tony, you're not, but we're also not discussing this until your concussion is gone and you're operating at full capacity."
Hopefully, by then Tony would realize what a bad, stupid idea this was and change his mind. And if he didn't, maybe Gibbs would be able to talk him out of it. Gibbs didn't hold out much hope he'd be able to convince himself otherwise.
Besides. Even if Tony wanted Gibbs, there was no guarantee or indication he'd want anything else. And Gibbs wasn't sure he'd be willing to settle for less.
Not with Tony.
Gibbs managed to look away, long enough to find the folded pile of laundry on Tony's dresser. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and held them out, almost like a shield. "Here," he said. "Put those on and get into bed."
Tony took the sweatpants and sat down to pull them on, looking up at Gibbs. "I could maybe come in this afternoon," he offered. "Long enough to fill out my report."
"Tomorrow, and that's only if you can get dressed without falling over." Gibbs shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You want aspirin or something?"
"Yeah. It's in the bathroom medicine cabinet." Tony swung his legs up onto the bed, pulling the comforter over them.
Gibbs nodded and went to get him the bottle and a glass of water. "Here," he said, returning with both. "You going to be okay on your own today?"
"I'll be fine, Boss." Tony downed four aspirin with a gulp of water and leaned back against the pillows. "Honest."
"I'll call you in the morning," Gibbs told him. "If you're up for it, I'll come pick you up for work."
"I will be," Tony promised. "Honestly, I could--"
"Stay. Put." Gibbs all-but-growled at him and was inwardly amused--and intrigued--to see Tony's eyes drop.
Maybe…but no. He wasn't going to think about that until much, much later.
"I'll call you later," he said.
"Keep me posted?" Tony asked, and Gibbs nodded.
"I'll let you know what's going on. You rest."
"Sure thing, Boss." Tony grinned at him; Gibbs shook his head wryly and left.
He made it to the office before McGee and Ziva and ducked into the head to freshen up, pulling on the spare shirt he kept in his desk and brushing his teeth. When he went back to his desk, McGee was there. "Oh! Hi, Boss, didn't know you were here already. I just got in--don't know where Ziva is," he said.
Gibbs nodded. "What's going on?"
"Ziva broke Thompson last night. He copped a plea in exchange for testimony against the other three." McGee shrugged. "We've got enough to put them all away."
"Good." Gibbs sat down and opened up his email. "DiNozzo won't be in today. You and Ziva can argue over who gets his paperwork."
"Or we could just leave it for him to return," Ziva said briskly, walking in. "I suppose he'll be in tomorrow, yes?"
"If he can stand up," Gibbs told her. "Nice work on Thompson."
She smiled. "It was nothing."
Gibbs nodded and turned back to his desk.
The day passed quietly, full of paperwork wrap-ups and phone calls. Gibbs was pleased to find that Razinni and Richards would be getting longer sentences than the other two, due to the assault on Tony.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. It all came back to Tony. In the end, it all came back to Tony.
And if you don't kiss me I think I'm going to go insane.
Fuck. There was no way. No chance. Tony was concussed, he wasn't thinking properly, and when his head got back to normal he'd regret everything he'd said.
Gibbs stood abruptly. "I'm going for coffee," he said, striding out of the office. It might not make anything clearer, but it would give him something to do for a little while.
On his way back, he stopped and picked up a Caff-Pow for Abby. She wouldn't have any light to shed on the situation that didn't exist, but she'd cheer up his day, and right now that was all Gibbs could ask for.
"Aw, thanks, Gibbs!" Abby took the soda with a grin, taking a deep pull on the straw before setting it down. "What can I do for you?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Unless there's new evidence I don't know about?"
"Sorry, but no." Abby spun on her stool and pointed to her table, where she was building...something. "I'm trying to build the battle of Gettysburg. What do you think?"
He studied it carefully. "Not bad, Abs," he said. "I take it your day's as slow as ours?"
She groaned. "I'm even caught up on my forensics journal reading. Give me something interesting, okay? Like a good juicy murder--I mean, not that I want anyone to die, but--" Abby sighed. "That's not going to end well no matter how I put it, is it?"
Gibbs laughed. "No," he told her. "But I'll see what I can do about finding you an interesting case that doesn't involve people dying." He tugged her pigtail. "Thanks, Abs."
Abby blinked. "For what?"
He just smiled and headed back upstairs. Ziva was away from her desk--probably reporting to Jen, Gibbs thought without heat. He knew where Ziva's loyalties lay.
McGee was frowning at his monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard. Gibbs thought briefly about asking him what he was doing, before deciding against it. He didn't really feel like listening to a stammered explanation of something he probably wouldn't understand anyway.
So he looked at his email and took a drink of coffee and thought that while the office might be more productive while Tony was gone--and that was a maybe--it was sure as hell less interesting.
The day passed, somehow, and at the end of it Gibbs sent McGee to check on Tony and went home to find a beer or three. Probably a stupid idea, but he couldn't get Tony out of his head. He couldn't forget the stunned, dazed look on Tony's face when Gibbs had kissed him, the flush on his cheeks.
He couldn't forget the way Tony's eyes had dropped.
That didn't mean anything, Gibbs told himself, smoothing his hand over a plank. He'd barked at Tony; Tony had responded the way any sane person would. That was all there was to it.
If he told himself that often enough, he might even believe it.
go to part 2
Author: rebecca
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He's in over his head.
Notes: A while ago, dustandroses made me some absolutely gorgeous icons for my LJ. I offered her fic in exchange, and it's taken me a while but this is what I came up with. Dusty, I really hope you like this!
Love and thanks to skripka for the beta.
Due to size constraints on LJ, I had to post this in two chunks. I'll link to part 2 at the bottom of this one.
They ran into the apartment, guns drawn, shouting. Ziva kicked open the door to one bedroom. "Clear," she shouted, looking around.
"Clear," McGee called from the living room.
Gibbs ran through the kitchen and slammed open the door to the bathroom. "Clear," he snapped, turning for the second bedroom. He kicked it open--and his heart nearly stopped when he saw Tony lying on the bed, out cold, a bruise on his temple and his chin bloody from a split lip. Tony's gun was on the floor, and from the scratches on his hands, he'd given as good as he'd gotten. "McGee!" Gibbs shouted. "Call the EMTs, tell them we've got a federal agent in distress! Ziva, radio in to the local LEOs, give 'em a description of Thompson and Richards." He didn't bother listening for their acknowledgments before holstering his gun and kneeling next to Tony, slapping his face lightly. "DiNozzo," he barked, worry making his voice sharper than he'd intended. "DiNozzo, wake up."
Tony groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "Boss?" he asked in confusion. "What--oh, fuck," he gasped before rolling onto his side and retching.
McGee ran in while Tony was vomiting; he winced in sympathy, looking worried. "EMTs are on their way, Boss," he said. "Five minutes."
Gibbs nodded. "Good. Tony, what happened?"
"Ugh." Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and managed to sit up, but he swayed dangerously and Gibbs caught him, easing him back down against the bed. "Two of them. One your height, one a little shorter. Wore black--ski masks and all. Wasn't a kidnapping--Thompson knew 'em. Think they signaled somehow, not sure how..." Tony's voice trailed off for a moment and he closed his eyes, clearly gathering his strength. "I winged one of 'em before I ended up fighting Richards for my gun--he got in a punch to the jaw, but I think I dislocated his shoulder. Then one of the goons in black cold-cocked me and I went down." He grimaced, raising a hand to his temple. "Feels like one of 'em kicked me in the gut, too," he said. "Sorry, Boss--"
"Four of them, one of you," Gibbs told him gruffly. "And you hurt two of them. We'll get 'em, Tony."
"Said something about Westbrook," Tony told him. "Something about the artifacts being there."
It meant nothing to Gibbs; he turned to McGee and Ziva, who'd come in by that point. "Westbrook?" he asked.
McGee frowned. "There's a Westbrook High School about twenty minutes from here," he said. "Only thing I know of in the area. And it's July, so odds are it's empty, or mostly."
"Thompson was a teacher," Ziva added.
Gibbs looked at him. "Call for backup," he said.
"Right." McGee touched Ziva's arm and they ran out.
"Shouldn't you go?" Tony asked, his words beginning to slur. "Instead of McGee or somethin'?"
"They'll call for backup, and I'm not leaving you until the EMTs check you over." Gibbs stood, glaring at Tony. "Understand?"
"Yes, Boss." Tony closed his eyes. "They'll make me go to th' hospital," he grumbled.
"Probably," Gibbs agreed.
"I hate th' hospital." Tony made a face.
"You passed out, DiNozzo, and you can't even sit up. You're going to the hospital. Deal with it." Gibbs glared at him--a look that ended up being somewhat wasted, since Tony had his eyes closed.
"No blue lights, okay?" Tony mumbled. "Damn things freak me out."
Gibbs felt his stomach clench at Tony's words. He remembered, all too clearly, Tony lying in the damn hospital bed, fighting for every breath he took, every rattle of his lungs. "No lights, Tony," he said, a little more sharply than he meant to. "Just the bright ones they'll shine in your eyes to make sure you didn't damage what passes for a brain."
Tony smiled a little. "Love you too, Boss," he said with a yawn.
"We'll see how much you love paperwork when you're stuck on a desk until that concussion heals," Gibbs told him.
"Only be a couple days. I've got a hard head."
"I know. I've had to drum enough into it." Just keep him talking, Gibbs knew. Keep him awake and lucid and talking.
"Thanks, Boss." Tony wrinkled his nose.
The EMTs ran in then, carrying their cases and zeroing in on Tony. Gibbs stepped out of their way and watched them examine Tony. No, he didn't have double vision--a little at first, but he was okay now. Yes, he'd vomited and yes, he was still nauseous. Yes, his head hurt, as did his stomach--one of the EMTs lifted Tony's shirt gently and Gibbs saw a bruise in the shape of a bootprint. His jaw tightened at the sight. Yes, Tony knew the date, the current President, and the starting roster of the Baltimore Orioles.
And yes, he was going to the hospital for a CT scan and tests to make sure the bruise on his stomach hadn't caused any internal problems. "We doubt it," the female EMT said, ripping off the blood pressure cuff. "His vitals are fine and it doesn't look like there's any problem. But it's SOP, and--do you have any idea how long he was unconscious?"
Gibbs thought back. It had been about five minutes from the time they'd gotten the alarm to the time they'd run in the door. Tony had said he'd fought, so--"No more than a few minutes," he said, shaking his head. "Three, four max?"
She nodded. "Good. Okay, Frank, let's get him on the gurney."
Gibbs went with them in the ambulance; there was just enough room and Ziva and McGee had taken the car anyway. Tony managed to stay awake for the ride, half-heartedly flirting with the female EMT, but he was fading fast.
The hospital swept him away, leaving Gibbs by the admissions desk. He gave them Tony's information--or as much as he knew--and was a bit surprised to discover that he was Tony's emergency contact. And then he was reduced to pacing, waiting for information on Tony, on Thompson and Richards, on anything.
His cell phone rang about ten minutes later and he went outside to answer it. "Yeah. Gibbs," he snapped.
"We got 'em, Boss," McGee said breathlessly. "Made it there just after they did--locals got there a minute after us. They're all in custody. Richards was moving like he'd just gotten his shoulder popped back into place and one of the other guys had a gunshot wound in his arm. Locals have them covered and I'm waiting for prisoner transport."
"Good work, McGee. I'll see you back at the office." Gibbs flipped off his phone and exhaled deeply. One down, now...Tony.
He couldn't go back into the hospital yet. Not when--Gibbs closed his eyes, thunking his head against the concrete wall of the hospital. "Fuck," he muttered. "Not again."
He didn't want to feel this way again. He didn't want to look at Tony and feel that need, that hunger to hold him and break him down, split him open...and then take care of him and put him back together. He didn't want it, any of it.
He couldn't feel this way.
It had been coming for a while, Gibbs knew, reluctantly acknowledging the truth. Every time Tony went undercover, every time he ended up in trouble, that pull got a little stronger, that need burned a little hotter. And now--but he couldn't. There were too many reasons why he couldn't, and no reason on earth that he could or even should.
"Damnit," he swore, before going back into the hospital.
"Agent Gibbs," the nurse said, walking briskly toward him. "This way."
He followed her back to one of the curtained areas, where Tony was half-reclining in the bed, a bandage on his temple. "I'm fine, Boss," Tony said brightly. "But they won't let me go home."
"We'd prefer to keep him overnight for observation," the doctor said, looking at Gibbs. "But we'll discharge him if someone will stay with him overnight and keep an eye on him."
Gibbs nodded. "He's all right otherwise?" he asked.
"Aside from a pretty severe concussion, various bruises, and a bootprint on his stomach, he's fine." The doctor smiled wryly, sliding her hands into the pockets of her coat. "No internal damage, nothing incredibly serious, but I want someone to keep an eye on him, and if he doesn't have someone at home--"
"I'll watch him," Gibbs interrupted.
"You mean McGee will, right?" Tony asked warily. "Or Ziva, or--"
"No, DiNozzo, I said I will. Knowing you, you'd talk McGee into leaving and I don't need Ziva in a snit. And you're not keeping Abby up all night." Gibbs glared at him, more than a bit amused when Tony visibly shrank back against the pillows. "I'll keep an eye on you."
"Good." The doctor smiled. "I'll go sign him out--we'll give you some painkillers, although nothing stronger than over-the-counters for the next twenty-four hours. You can take aspirin or ibuprofen, but Tylenol will probably be easier on your stomach." She patted Tony's calf under the blankets. "The nurse will help you get dressed."
"I've been dressing myself for--"
"Shut up and take the help," Gibbs told him. "I'll go call McGee and get him to come get us." He walked outside before he could lose what little control he had left.
Spending the night with Tony? Was he insane?
Gibbs rubbed his forehead and took out his phone. Apparently so.
McGee arrived about half an hour later, after making sure Thompson, Richards, and the other two goons were safely locked up. "We've got the high school cordoned off," he said. "Local LEOs are conducting a search for the artifacts now. Ziva's there, and I called in Cassie Yates--she was nearby. I'll go back to help once I take Tony home. You going back, Boss?"
"No." Gibbs shook his head. "DiNozzo needs someone to make sure he doesn't do something idiotic overnight, so I'm keeping an eye on him until morning. You go back and make sure everything gets handled properly." He smiled briefly. "Don't let Ziva eat the locals."
"I'll try, Boss." McGee grinned a little.
The nurse came outside, pushing the wheelchair with Tony in it. As soon as the doors closed, he got to his feet, swaying for one moment before gaining his balance and walking toward them. "Let's go," he said cheerfully. "Hey, Probie. Get the bastards?"
McGee nodded. "We got there a minute after they did, thanks to Ziva's driving."
"I'm amazed you're still in one piece." Tony snorted. "Let's go. My bed is calling me."
Gibbs took shotgun--but only after watching Tony slide into the backseat, stretching out as best he could. He'd have preferred to drive, except he really didn't want Tony to throw up again. So he resigned himself to dealing with McGee's sedate driving and looked out the window the whole drive back.
Tony had apparently dozed off; he woke up with a jerk when McGee parked outside his building. "Thanks, Probie," he said, clapping McGee on the shoulder. "Remind me to dump my paperwork on Ziva instead of you."
McGee rolled his eyes. "I'll believe it when I see it, Tony."
"Call me and keep me updated," Gibbs ordered McGee, getting out of the car. "No one goes home until all the "I"s are dotted, understand?"
"You got it, Boss." McGee nodded. Gibbs shut the door and thumped the top of the car, watching him drive off.
Gibbs turned to Tony, gripping his upper arm to steady him as he got out of the car and onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Boss," Tony said with a weak grin. "Not really feeling up to salsa dancing here."
"Yeah." Gibbs steered him toward the front door. "Come on, DiNozzo, let's get you inside."
"Yes, Boss." Tony dug out his keycard and got them in the front door, punching the call button for the elevator. Once inside, he slumped against the wall, gingerly touching his stomach. "Ow," he muttered.
Gibbs looked at him carefully; not thrilled with the pasty color of Tony's skin or the way he hunched over a bit, probably trying to ease the pain from the bruise on his stomach. "You have Tylenol, DiNozzo?" he asked.
Tony nodded. "From the last time I got whacked in the head." He grinned, but it was a poor imitation of his usual cheerful smile. "Way I feel now, aspirin'd probably make me retch."
"I'm not cleaning up after you," Gibbs told him.
"Thanks, Boss." Tony stepped off the elevator and turned to his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment, but managed to get the door unlocked just before Gibbs would have taken the keys out of his hands. "Welcome to Casa DiNozzo," he said, gesturing grandly. "I cleaned in honor of your arrival."
Gibbs snorted and walked in, inwardly amused that the place was clean. Tony apparently hadn't been kidding about having a maid, or cleaning lady, or whatever they were called these days. "Go change and get into bed, Tony," he said tiredly. "I'll get you some Tylenol."
Tony blinked. "I got it, Boss. Need to hit the john anyway." He walked off toward his bathroom, already beginning to pull off his shirt.
Alone in Tony's living room, Gibbs looked around, a little amused at the pillow and blanket on the couch, the DVDs stacked on his coffee table. Looked like Tony spent a few nights in his living room, rather than his bed.
He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out two bottles of water. Tony might not feel thirsty, but he needed something in his stomach. Gibbs figured he'd look around later for soup; for right now, he took the water and headed for Tony's bedroom.
"Boss!" Tony squawked, grabbing his pajama pants and shoving them in front of his crotch. "Knock, would you?"
"Unless you're not telling me something, I've seen it all before," Gibbs said, a little more roughly than he meant to.
"That's nice, but could you not see it again now?" Tony said, strangled.
Probably a good idea anyway, Gibbs thought, turning around. Tony was hurt, and not feeling well, and Christ but Gibbs needed to stop thinking of him as anything other than a subordinate.
"Thanks," Tony said a moment later. "I think."
Gibbs turned around again and held out the water bottle. "You probably need something to drink," he said.
"Yeah. I guess." Tony sat down on the edge of his bed, taking the bottle. "Thanks." He twisted off the cap and took a drink, licking water off his lower lip. Gibbs forced himself to look away, gritting his teeth. He did not need this.
Tony put the bottle down. "Um, Boss?" he asked carefully. "You don't have to stand here and watch me, you know."
"I know that, DiNozzo." Gibbs took a drink of his own water.
"Then...what are you still doing here?" Tony pulled his legs up onto the bed, settling under his comforter. He shoved the pillows behind his back and looked at Gibbs, confused.
Tony wasn't wearing a shirt, and with the way he was sitting in bed the outline of the bruise on his stomach was incredibly clear. Gibbs wondered who had done it, and if there would be a way to 'accidentally' return the favor.
"Get some sleep, Tony." Gibbs paused with his hand on the light switch. "I'll be here if you need me."
"Yeah." Tony's eyes were already closing. "Always are, Boss," he mumbled.
Gibbs turned off the light and left, leaving the door slightly open. "I know," he said quietly, walking back to the living room and Tony's ugly but comfortable couch. "I know, Tony."
He settled on the couch with his bottle of water. Looking at his watch, he figured he'd give McGee fifteen minutes before calling. In the meantime, he sighed and leaned back against the couch cushions. "I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself.
Not that it was new information, but it bore repeating, especially with him stuck at Tony's place for the night. Hopefully, if he stayed here and Tony stayed there, it'd be fine. He'd lasted this long; he could last longer.
Forever, if necessary.
Four minutes later, he was jolted out of his funk by his phone. "Gibbs," he barked into it.
"Boss, it's me. McGee."
"I know who you are, McGee. What's going on?"
"We found the stuff. The artifacts, I mean. They were in the basement of the high school. From what we've been able to gather, Richards had a change of heart about cooperating. We're still not sure how he signaled Collins and Razinni--those were the guys in black. None of them are talking. Collins is an ex-petty officer, Razinni was dishonorably discharged for unbecoming conduct. So once Tony got them to the safe house, Razinni and Collins broke in. The idea was to get Tony out of the way and go back for the stuff."
"So why didn't they just shoot him?" Gibbs asked.
"Not sure. Ziva's working on Thompson--if any of them are likely to break, it'll be him. Oh, and Razinni's the one who did most of the damage to Tony. He's currently shackled." McGee's voice held a note of grim pleasure and Gibbs held back a snort of approval.
"Good," he said instead.
"Thanks, Boss. How's Tony?"
"Asleep." Gibbs glanced in the direction of the bedroom. "He's fine."
"Good." McGee sounded relieved. "That's...that's good. Will he be in tomorrow?"
"He'll have to fill out an incident report, at least," Gibbs said. "After that, I don't know. Depends on whether he can stand up or not."
"Okay. So--um--I'll get back to everything," McGee said.
"Yeah. Keep me posted." Gibbs flipped off his phone and sighed. Realistically, he should be at the office and someone else--anyone else--should be with Tony. Or Tony should just have spent the night at the hospital. But Gibbs hadn't been able to leave him there, and he was just enough of a masochist to stay.
He propped his feet on the coffee table, dropping his head back against the couch. Maybe he could get a catnap, at least.
Gibbs didn't know how long it had been before he was jolted awake by the feel of someone sitting down next to him. He jumped slightly, turning to see Tony. "You should be in bed," he said gruffly.
"My head hurts too much to sleep and I can't get comfortable with this bootprint on my stomach anyway." Tony sighed. "And it's July 17, the president is Dubya--unlucky us. My name is Anthony Michael DiNozzo, and the best movie ever made was--well, there are too many of those to count."
Gibbs snorted. "You want anything to drink?" The irony of offering Tony a drink in his own apartment didn't escape him.
"I think I've got some juice in the fridge. That'd be good." Tony closed his eyes and propped his feet up next to Gibbs'.
"Okay." Gibbs pushed himself to his feet and walked into Tony's small kitchen. He opened the fridge, seeing a couple bottles of sports drinks, some random leftovers, and a quart of orange juice--which, surprisingly, wasn't empty.
It took him a moment to find the glasses; once he did, he poured Tony a glass of the juice and went back into the living room. "Here," he said, handing Tony the glass.
"Thanks, Boss." Their fingers brushed and Gibbs fought back the spark that ran through him.
Tony sipped the juice. "You want to watch a movie?" he offered.
"You up for that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"So long as we don't watch Aliens, I'm cool." Tony grinned and reached for the remote, wincing as he did. "Okay. I think…" He turned on the TV and pressed a couple other buttons. "I've got The African Queen in here," he said. "That cool with you?"
Bogart and Hepburn--electric combination and wonderful movie. "Sure," Gibbs said, picking up his bottle of water. Of course, it was also a romance, but he wasn't the date-movie type and frankly, he didn't think Tony was either.
He didn't really pay attention to the movie, keeping his attention split between Tony and the screen. About halfway through the movie, Tony's eyes began to droop closed; Gibbs wasn't surprised, any more than he was surprised when Tony began to snore softly. He leaned over and picked up the remote, figuring out how to shut off the DVD and the TV as well.
Tony made a snuffling sound and slumped down, lying sideways on the couch. His head brushed against Gibbs' thigh and his legs hung over the arm of the couch and one arm curled protectively over his stomach.
Gibbs closed his eyes. "Christ," he muttered. Almost without realizing it, he reached down, stroking Tony's hair gently. Tony murmured and turned into the caress, sighing a bit.
Fuck. Gibbs exhaled deeply and looked down at Tony, at the split lip and the bruise on his temple. He looked at his fingers in Tony's hair, and at Tony's skin in the soft light of the lamp.
And he fought back the hunger to hold Tony and caress him and tuck him into bed and make him comfortable. That wasn't going to get him anywhere but trouble.
Tony sighed and shifted again, ending up with his head on Gibbs' thigh. He turned to face the back of the couch, putting his lips perilously close to Gibbs' groin. Gibbs bit the inside of his cheek and thought of the case and Razinni in shackles, only shackles led to handcuffs led to black leather and Tony's skin and oh, fuck, he was in trouble.
Gibbs stood up carefully and rested Tony's head on the couch instead of his lap. Tony made an unhappy sound, reaching up like he was trying to find Gibbs. He settled down again with a groan. But even asleep, he didn't look happy about it.
There was an armchair nearby, an overstuffed thing that didn't match the couch but proved to be almost as comfortable when Gibbs sat down in it. He slumped down against the back and watched Tony shift restlessly in his sleep and told himself firmly that Tony was a grown man who was capable of sleeping without a teddy bear, human or stuffed.
Eventually, the day caught up with him and he let his own eyes fall shut, sleep wrapping around him softly and surely.
He woke up to the sound of a groan and a curse. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that the sun was starting to rise and Tony was stretched out on his back, one arm flung over his eyes and the other draped over his stomach. "I must be alive," he said with another groan. "I feel too horrible to be dead."
"Trust me, DiNozzo, if you were dead, I wouldn't be sitting in your armchair," Gibbs said, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked at his watch and saw that it was just before six. "I'd be haunting your ass for being stupid enough to die."
"Is that what you--" Tony stopped abruptly and grimaced. "Sorry, Boss. What time is it?"
"Six," Gibbs said, knowing what Tony had been about to say and glad he hadn't. "Think you're up for a shower? Might help."
"Don't know." Tony pushed himself up painfully and stood up, bending over with one arm wrapped around his abdomen. "Maybe?"
"If maybe means you'll fall over in the tub, stick to no," Gibbs told him. "I'm not taking you back to the hospital."
That, and keeping his desire in check when faced with a wet, naked Tony was going to be all-but-impossible. Gibbs sighed and wished--again--that he'd let anyone else stay with Tony. Even Ziva.
"I'll be okay," Tony said, nodding. "Just needed to get my balance." He walked off toward the bathroom, and although Gibbs watched him closely, he didn't see anything to indicate that Tony was unsteady on his feet or about to fall over.
Gibbs calculated times and driving and figured that they could probably be at the office by seven, seven-fifteen at the outside. He had his kit there and could freshen up once they got in, and either McGee or Ziva could take Tony home once he filled out the incident report and had Ducky look him over.
Not that Gibbs didn't trust the doctor who had examined Tony yesterday. He just trusted Ducky more.
After about twenty minutes, the water shut off and Gibbs heard sounds of Tony moving around in his bedroom. But then he heard a groan, and a thud, and he was on his feet and in Tony's bedroom before he could think.
Tony was on his knees, holding his stomach protectively. The thud Gibbs had heard was probably the sound he'd made hitting the floor. He was naked, and his hair was wet, and Gibbs didn't know whether to yell at him or kiss him and put him to bed.
"DiNozzo, what happened?" he asked instead.
"I moved." Tony grimaced. "My stomach didn't like it, and neither did my head, and I lost my balance. Can you help me up?"
Gibbs swore under his breath and walked to Tony, crouching down next to him. "Sheer miracle you didn't fall in the shower," he muttered.
"I had a wall to lean against. Honestly, Boss, I just moved too fast." Tony gripped Gibbs' forearms, and as Gibbs stood Tony used him to pull himself to his feet.
"You're not moving outside this apartment," Gibbs told him. "You can fill out the report tomorrow or the day after, but you're taking a sick day today. I can't have you falling over every time you try to walk across the office." He tightened his jaw, ignoring the warmth from Tony's body, the peppermint scent of his soap or his shampoo, the beads of water on his shoulders. "Get back in bed, Tony," he said. "You're not going anywhere."
"Um." Tony swallowed. "I can--"
"Get back in bed," Gibbs repeated.
"Right." Tony swallowed again. "You have to let go of me first, Boss," he said after a moment.
Gibbs looked down. He hadn't realized he was still holding on to Tony--or that Tony was still holding on to him. "Yeah," he said, cursing his voice for being hoarser than he wanted. Slowly, he forced his hands to let go of Tony's arms.
But Tony didn't let go of him. "Boss," he said carefully. "Um."
"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"No, not really. Um." Tony looked away. "I have a concussion and a really, really sore stomach and I'm probably not operating at full capacity here, and I feel like someone ran me over with a steamroller--twice--and I know I should be protesting about you making me stay home but the truth is I'm kind of relieved about it." He exhaled deeply. "And if you don't kiss me I think I'm going to go insane."
Gibbs stared at him. "I think that knock on your head rattled your brain more than we thought," he said in shock.
"Or maybe it cleared up a few things." Tony licked his lips. "If you don't want me, tell me, and you can fire me or transfer me and we'll pretend I never made an idiot out of myself and--"
Gibbs kissed him.
Tony blinked at him, dazed, when the kiss ended. "Oh," he said softly. "So I'm not getting fired?"
"No." Gibbs tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the smile. "No, Tony, you're not, but we're also not discussing this until your concussion is gone and you're operating at full capacity."
Hopefully, by then Tony would realize what a bad, stupid idea this was and change his mind. And if he didn't, maybe Gibbs would be able to talk him out of it. Gibbs didn't hold out much hope he'd be able to convince himself otherwise.
Besides. Even if Tony wanted Gibbs, there was no guarantee or indication he'd want anything else. And Gibbs wasn't sure he'd be willing to settle for less.
Not with Tony.
Gibbs managed to look away, long enough to find the folded pile of laundry on Tony's dresser. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and held them out, almost like a shield. "Here," he said. "Put those on and get into bed."
Tony took the sweatpants and sat down to pull them on, looking up at Gibbs. "I could maybe come in this afternoon," he offered. "Long enough to fill out my report."
"Tomorrow, and that's only if you can get dressed without falling over." Gibbs shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "You want aspirin or something?"
"Yeah. It's in the bathroom medicine cabinet." Tony swung his legs up onto the bed, pulling the comforter over them.
Gibbs nodded and went to get him the bottle and a glass of water. "Here," he said, returning with both. "You going to be okay on your own today?"
"I'll be fine, Boss." Tony downed four aspirin with a gulp of water and leaned back against the pillows. "Honest."
"I'll call you in the morning," Gibbs told him. "If you're up for it, I'll come pick you up for work."
"I will be," Tony promised. "Honestly, I could--"
"Stay. Put." Gibbs all-but-growled at him and was inwardly amused--and intrigued--to see Tony's eyes drop.
Maybe…but no. He wasn't going to think about that until much, much later.
"I'll call you later," he said.
"Keep me posted?" Tony asked, and Gibbs nodded.
"I'll let you know what's going on. You rest."
"Sure thing, Boss." Tony grinned at him; Gibbs shook his head wryly and left.
He made it to the office before McGee and Ziva and ducked into the head to freshen up, pulling on the spare shirt he kept in his desk and brushing his teeth. When he went back to his desk, McGee was there. "Oh! Hi, Boss, didn't know you were here already. I just got in--don't know where Ziva is," he said.
Gibbs nodded. "What's going on?"
"Ziva broke Thompson last night. He copped a plea in exchange for testimony against the other three." McGee shrugged. "We've got enough to put them all away."
"Good." Gibbs sat down and opened up his email. "DiNozzo won't be in today. You and Ziva can argue over who gets his paperwork."
"Or we could just leave it for him to return," Ziva said briskly, walking in. "I suppose he'll be in tomorrow, yes?"
"If he can stand up," Gibbs told her. "Nice work on Thompson."
She smiled. "It was nothing."
Gibbs nodded and turned back to his desk.
The day passed quietly, full of paperwork wrap-ups and phone calls. Gibbs was pleased to find that Razinni and Richards would be getting longer sentences than the other two, due to the assault on Tony.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. It all came back to Tony. In the end, it all came back to Tony.
And if you don't kiss me I think I'm going to go insane.
Fuck. There was no way. No chance. Tony was concussed, he wasn't thinking properly, and when his head got back to normal he'd regret everything he'd said.
Gibbs stood abruptly. "I'm going for coffee," he said, striding out of the office. It might not make anything clearer, but it would give him something to do for a little while.
On his way back, he stopped and picked up a Caff-Pow for Abby. She wouldn't have any light to shed on the situation that didn't exist, but she'd cheer up his day, and right now that was all Gibbs could ask for.
"Aw, thanks, Gibbs!" Abby took the soda with a grin, taking a deep pull on the straw before setting it down. "What can I do for you?"
Gibbs shook his head. "Unless there's new evidence I don't know about?"
"Sorry, but no." Abby spun on her stool and pointed to her table, where she was building...something. "I'm trying to build the battle of Gettysburg. What do you think?"
He studied it carefully. "Not bad, Abs," he said. "I take it your day's as slow as ours?"
She groaned. "I'm even caught up on my forensics journal reading. Give me something interesting, okay? Like a good juicy murder--I mean, not that I want anyone to die, but--" Abby sighed. "That's not going to end well no matter how I put it, is it?"
Gibbs laughed. "No," he told her. "But I'll see what I can do about finding you an interesting case that doesn't involve people dying." He tugged her pigtail. "Thanks, Abs."
Abby blinked. "For what?"
He just smiled and headed back upstairs. Ziva was away from her desk--probably reporting to Jen, Gibbs thought without heat. He knew where Ziva's loyalties lay.
McGee was frowning at his monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard. Gibbs thought briefly about asking him what he was doing, before deciding against it. He didn't really feel like listening to a stammered explanation of something he probably wouldn't understand anyway.
So he looked at his email and took a drink of coffee and thought that while the office might be more productive while Tony was gone--and that was a maybe--it was sure as hell less interesting.
The day passed, somehow, and at the end of it Gibbs sent McGee to check on Tony and went home to find a beer or three. Probably a stupid idea, but he couldn't get Tony out of his head. He couldn't forget the stunned, dazed look on Tony's face when Gibbs had kissed him, the flush on his cheeks.
He couldn't forget the way Tony's eyes had dropped.
That didn't mean anything, Gibbs told himself, smoothing his hand over a plank. He'd barked at Tony; Tony had responded the way any sane person would. That was all there was to it.
If he told himself that often enough, he might even believe it.
go to part 2