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perpetual_motionTitle: Love in the Aftermath
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: R
Summary: Season 4 didn't happen. Or it did, but it started a completely different way. (AKA Gibbs, DiNozzo, the team, and a merry chase.)
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, of course.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a little bit of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic fun. Then it exploded and got everywhere. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
catheral_junki for awesome betaing. Much love to shoshannagold and lasergirl for keeping me company while I wrote.
Dedication: Fortigriswolf, who put up the prompt and let me run away with it, with no guarantee that I would actually finish what I started. I hope you like it.
Part One!
The door opens. Tony stands framed in the doorway, light spilling around him from the picture window on the opposite wall. There's a coffee cup in his left hand. His right is still holding the doorknob. He stares at Gibbs for a second, then two, then five. "…the hell?"
"You stormed out of headquarters, turned off your phone, and cleared out of your apartment." Gibbs says, surprised at the gruffness in his voice. "You think I wouldn't show up to drag your ass back to work?"
Tony blinks. He takes a long drink of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Gibbs. "No," he says, voice light but dangerous. "I didn't."
"Then you should have hidden out somewhere I don't know about." Gibbs steps forward meaning to push Tony back into the room. Tony doesn't budge, and they bump chests. "You shouldn't have hidden out in the hotel where I found you the first time."
"Told you the first time, if you can't be with your family—"
"Be near your family," Gibbs finishes. Their first meeting flashes in his memory. The call from Miller, an old platoon buddy who'd retired from the Marines and gone to work as a Baltimore detective. Miller had promised a great agent for at least two years if Gibbs could track him down. "He's the best undercover I've seen, Gibbs, but he's got a hair trigger."
"How bad?"
"According to his former bosses in Peoria and Philadelphia, once he quits, he's gone."
"Gone?"
"I've got it on good authority that after he quit here, he was moved out of his apartment in 24 hours."
Gibbs had whistled, thanked Miller, and headed down to Abby's lab. Abby had found him in less than an hour. Gibbs had driven up that day, knocked on the door and been greeted with a blinding bright smile that had fallen into something soft and careful and a little scared when Gibbs had made his offer.
He remembers the way Tony said it the first time, "If you can't be with your family," and he'd given a self-deprecating smirk, "be near your family." The smiles had been great, and they'd become Tony's joke—everyone at NCIS knew about Tony getting hired for his "smile"—but it was that smirk, the tone, the slight hopeful edge, that had made Gibbs decide DiNozzo was going to be an agent, and none of that, 'two years and gone' bullshit.
"Five years, Dinozzo. Beat your records from all your old precincts."
"Yay." Tony presses a little harder against Gibbs. "And if you don't mind, I'm waiting for a bastard to show up and offer me a job."
"I'm right here."
"You don't work anymore, remember? You're…retired." He says the word with the same down-the-nose superiority as the clerk downstairs. "You grew a moustache to celebrate, I see."
"Like it?"
"You look like a pedophile."
"I'll shave it."
"I'm sure your next ex-wife will appreciate the effort."
"What about you?"
Tony lifts his coffee mug again, takes a drink six inches from Gibbs' face. "What about me?"
"You pack up your whole life in less than 48 hours, move out in a way that the neighbors know you did but can't confirm it's you, and then you left the table. And those movies."
"Movers must have forgotten them."
"And you used some family member based up here to get your carpets clean."
"She cut me a deal."
"Sure." Gibbs stares into Tony's eyes, lifts a hand from his side and presses it to Tony's waist. "You gonna invite me in?"
"You going to leave if you take another explosion to the head?"
"I don't plan to take another explosion to the head."
"That wasn't the question."
Gibbs presses his hand more firmly against Tony's side, watches Tony's face for disinterest or anger. All he sees is Tony's eyes, the curve of his jaw, and the length of his neck. Like Tony's here and solid but not quite paying attention. "No," Gibbs breathes out. "I'm not leaving again."
Tony eyes him, looking for sincerity, Gibbs is sure, and something else he can't pinpoint. Tony takes a step backwards, another, until he's standing to the side of the door. He gestures with his coffee cup. "Won't you come in?"
Gibbs steps into the room, whistles under his breath as he checks out the size of the place. It's a suite, with a full living room and a bedroom off to the left. There's a kitchenette with a sink and full-sized refrigerator. "Last time I was here, you were in a basic king-sized."
"Last time you were here was five years ago," Tony reminds him. "Some of my investments have taken me up in the world."
Gibbs walks over to the coffee pot, opens cupboards until he finds a mug. "McGee and Ziva are downstairs," he says. "They know."
"About what?"
"That you left because Jenny tried to use you as a glorified gigolo. That you have enough cash hidden away that you can make a quick escape." Gibbs sips his coffee and walks to a set of armchairs. There's a crossword on the table beside one of them. He sits in the other. "That you and I had a relationship."
Tony sits in the chair across from Gibbs. He puts down his coffee mug and links his hands, resting them in his lap. "Hacked?"
"Oh, yeah." Gibbs watches Tony fight the smile off of his face. The feeling in the room changes, from cautious welcome to expectation, and when Tony reaches for his coffee mug again, Gibbs knows he has to be the one to break the silence. "You left the table," he starts. "And Love in the Afternoon. I'm assuming those were hints."
"To what?"
The problem with good undercover agents, Gibbs knows, is their ability to sound completely uninterested when they are, in reality they want information. Tony's face is bland, watching Gibbs like they're having a conversation about a finished case or the price of gas. "You wanted me to find you," Gibbs says. "You left the table and the first movie we watched at your place."
"I also left two other movies."
"Set in New York. And then you just happened to turn on your phone long enough for Abby to pinpoint you."
Tony's face gives away nothing. "Did I?"
"And Abby sent us here, and we got to threaten the desk clerk."
"He's kind of an ass."
Gibbs smirks. "He is. Tell me you wanted to be found."
"I left behind a few things. That's all."
"Tell me you wanted to be found."
Tony leans back in his chair, sticks his legs out in front of him. He looks Gibbs over from his toes to the top of his head, stopping to shake his head at the moustache. "Tell me you wanted to find me."
He could just say it, Gibbs knows, deliver it as the fact it is. Tony will believe him, will read his sincerity. But he also knows what he's done to Tony, leaving like he did, handing in his resignation and leaving Tony and the rest of them to fend for themselves with no warning and no help. Knows how terribly Tony reacts to people he cares about voluntarily dropping out of his life. If he doesn't explain, Tony will still assume, deep down, that it's him. That's he's done something, yet again, to make someone walk away from him.
"Jenny called to tell me she'd fired you. I called McGee and Abby to find out why. Three hours later, I was on a flight into D.C. Would have been sooner, but Abby booked the flight."
"That wasn't my question."
"I'm getting there." Gibbs leans back in his chair, sticks out his legs so that he can tap Tony's foot with his own if he wants. "Tell me you left the table on purpose."
Tony's lips quirk up in a small smile. "I left the table on purpose."
"And the movies."
"I'll only confirm the table."
Gibbs feels himself smile. "Fine. You left the table on purpose."
"Yes."
"As a note to me."
Tony points his toes and rotates his ankles, almost—but not quite—touching Gibbs' feet. "Yes."
"Because you knew word would get back to me."
"No." Tony shakes his head. "I didn't know that."
"How could you not know that?"
Tony's jaw twitches. He takes a drink from his coffee, and Gibbs can see his hand shaking. "I could have assumed you would find out," Tony says, his tone wavering between even and angry, "if you'd bothered to call in the last three months."
Gibbs breathes out hard. "I deserved that."
"And so much more," Tony mutters. He juts out his chin when Gibbs glares at him. "I've got a list."
"I bet." Gibbs shifts his foot, taps it against Tony's. Tony doesn't move. "Five years," Gibbs says, "and you can still pack up and move in less than a day."
"Why stick around once the job is finished?" Tony asks.
Gibbs watches Tony try to keep his face bland. "You've jabbed and insulted everyone you've worked with, been occasionally insubordinate, and been—quite possibly—the most self-destructive undercover agent who doesn't have a death wish." Gibbs stands up, takes the two steps to Tony's chair, and leans down, his hands clamping down on the armrests, trapping Tony in his seat. "You tried not to do it, Tony, but you put down roots, and they're downstairs right now sneering at the clerk. Two of them are back at headquarters, flaunting a direct order from Jenny to make sure you're safe. Hell, Palmer was assisting when we left. And I'm right here, in your face, having dragged my ass out of Mexico, letting everyone insult my mustache, and I'm telling you that I wanted to find you."
Tony raises his eyebrows and sits up straight. When he tilts his head, he and Gibbs are nearly nose-to-nose. "You could have called."
"I'm a bastard."
"You could have sent a text."
"I'm a bastard."
"You could have sent a fucking carrier pigeon."
"Still a bastard."
Tony narrows his eyes. "Yeah. You are." He lifts a hand, wraps it around the back of Gibbs' neck. "I wanted you to find me."
"Goddamn right you did." Gibbs dips his head, pauses, lets Tony pull him in the rest of the way into the kiss.
Tony kisses him hard, twisting his fingers into the hair at the nape of Gibbs' neck. His other hand wraps around Gibbs' bicep, nails digging in even through Gibbs' shirt. When he pulls away, he's panting, eyes bright. "If you're not staying, I get to punch you in the mouth."
"I'm staying," Gibbs promises.
"Good." Tony licks his lips and takes his hand off Gibbs' bicep. "I'm willing to forego all long conversations about our feelings if you are."
"Agreed."
Tony smirks. "Thought so." He puts a hand on Gibbs' chest and pushes him backwards so he can stand up. "What's next?"
Gibbs considers his options. "We both need to get re-instated," he says, "and I've got to find a way to get Ziva and McGee back to work without Jenny being able to toss them both out for helping me with finding you." Tony looks stricken, and Gibbs points a finger at him. "Nobody made them come along, DiNozzo. Get that look off your face."
"If they're fired because—"
"They're not. Or, if they are, they won't be for long. I've got it handled."
"How deep are they in?"
"They're both taking psychologist prescribed leave. They just happened to request it after Jenny spent a solid seventeen minutes yelling at McGee."
Tony puts his hands over his face. "Shit."
"Not your fault, Tony. This is what family does." Gibbs steps close, pulls Tony's hands away from his face. "And I think I've still got enough favors stocked away to get us all taken care of."
Tony breathes in deep, and Gibbs watches as he settles himself, rolling his shoulders and working his jaw back and forth. "All right," Tony agrees. "Let's do this."
Gibbs looks around the room. "Where's your go-bag?"
"In the closet." Tony grabs Gibbs' arm as he turns to retrieve it. "Hold on. There's one more thing."
*
McGee's sitting in a chair, flipping through a magazine, and Ziva's pacing the perimeter of the lobby when Gibbs and Tony step off the elevator. They both stop what they're doing and look up as Gibbs and Tony walk across the lobby. McGee stands, breaks into a grin, and bounces on his toes.
"You're coming back?" he asks.
Tony grins. "Apparently, Probie."
"And you?" Ziva asks Gibbs. "Are you coming back as well?"
"Someone's got to make sure you three stay employed," Gibbs replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys to the rental car. "Ziva, start the car. McGee call Abby again and let her know things are settled. Tony and I are going to settle the bill." McGee and Ziva don’t move for a second, both staring at Gibbs. "Now." Gibbs snaps, and they make tracks for the door.
"And just when I got them trained," Tony mutters. "I had Probie bringing me coffee."
"What about Ziva?"
"She'd stopped threatening to kill me."
"Not bad for three months."
"Thanks."
The desk clerk smiles when Tony steps up to the counter and pulls out his wallet. "Checking out, Mr. DiNozzo?"
"Yes."
"Let me bring up your bill." The desk clerk turns to type on the computer and spares Gibbs a short glance. "I see you found your," he pauses for a beat, "friend."
"Yes, he did," Tony says, voice smooth.
"Your bill, Sir."
"Thank you, Brandt." Tony takes the print-out of the bill and skims it. "Everything looks to be in order." He opens his wallet and pulls out a stack of bills. "This should cover everything."
Brandt smiles, counts the money, and tucks one of the bills into his own pocket. "Thank you, Mr. DiNozzo." He glances at Gibbs again. "If I may say so, I preferred the moustache."
"Noted," Gibbs replies, and he tucks his hand into Tony's elbow, pulling him towards the door. "He's an ass," Gibbs says to Tony loud enough that he hears Brandt sniff in disapproval.
"He's paid very well to be an ass," Tony tells him. "And until you came in and scared him, he was the most reliable closed-mouth in Long Island."
"He'll recover."
"He should. I won't need to come back here for awhile."
Gibbs tightens his grip on Tony's elbow for a second. "Good to hear," he says as he leads Tony to the car.
Ziva and McGee are in the back seat of the SUV when Tony and Gibbs cross the street. "I'm driving," Tony says.
"Like hell," Gibbs replies.
"You have to start calling in favors," Tony points out. "You can't do that and drive."
Gibbs glances at his watch. It's just after six. "All right," he agrees. He climbs into the passenger seat, catches McGee's surprised look from the corner of his eye. "You want me to drive, McGee?" he asks.
McGee opens his mouth, closes it. "As long as it's not Ziva," he says, and manages to dodge Ziva's slap.
Tony gets into the driver's seat. "Seatbelts, kiddies," he says. When he glances over his shoulder to the back seat, Ziva punches him in the arm. "Hey!"
"For leaving," she says, then turns and looks out the window.
Tony grins, then winces as McGee slaps him in the back of the head. "Probie!"
"Tony," Gibbs says before McGee can defend himself, "you're lucky that wasn't from me."
Tony eyes Gibbs, glances in the rearview mirror and nods. A second later, Ziva slaps Gibbs on the back of the head. "We're even," Tony declares and navigates into traffic.
Gibbs shakes his head and pulls out his cell, dialing a number from memory.
The phone rings twice before the line is picked up. "Office of the Secretary of the Navy. This is Nicole."
"Jethro Gibbs from NCIS," Gibbs replies. "I need to speak with the SecNav."
"He's in meetings all day, Mr. Gibbs. I'm happy to schedule a callback."
"It's of high importance, Nicole. I need you to take a note into him that has my name on it."
"The Secretary of the—"
"Nicole," Gibbs puts steel into his voice, "it's important."
Nicole does not respond immediately, but Gibbs can hear something getting written down. "If you'll give me a moment, Sir, I'll see if the SecNav can speak with you."
"Thank you." Gibbs grimaces at the hold music and pulls the phone away from his ear. In the back seat, Ziva is explaining to McGee how best to break a man's thumbs. Tony has one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the tuner knob on the radio looking for a station. The hold music cuts off.
"Mr. Gibbs?"
"I'm here."
"One moment for the SecNav, please." There's no hold music this time, just the click of the line being transferred.
"Jethro?" The SecNav sounds shocked. "I thought you'd retired."
"I did."
The SecNav laughs. "Get bored already?"
Gibbs looks at Tony. "Something like that. I'd like to be reinstated."
"You can talk to Director Sheppard about that. She's the one who'll have to put through the paperwork."
"Sir, if I could go to Director Sheppard, I would, but there's been a complication."
There's silence on the other end of the line. "As much as it might later incriminate me as an accessory, I suppose you'll have to tell me what you did."
McGee yelps in the back seat, and Gibbs watches Tony grin when he glances in the mirror. "It was more of a team effort, Sir."
"Always is with you, Gibbs." There's a creaking sound, like the SecNav is getting comfortable in his chair. "Give me the whole thing, Gibbs," he orders. "Or enough that the details you leave out aren't ones I need to make this work."
Gibbs takes a moment to figure out where to start. "What do you know about La Grenouille?"
*
An hour later, as Tony takes an exit to find a gas station, Gibbs closes his phone and rubs his eyes. "All right," he says as Tony clicks off the radio, "The SecNav's going to make some calls. Said it should take a couple of hours."
"I called Abby while you were on with the SecNav," McGee says, "she's going to forward him the La Grenouille file."
"Good job, McGee," Tony says before Gibbs can say the same. He pulls up to the pump and cuts the engine. "Ziva and McGee, you're on snack duty. I want something with negative nutritional value. I'll get gas."
Ziva and McGee get out the car and walk into the gas station. Tony gets out of the car and starts pressing buttons on the pump. Gibbs walks around from the passenger side and leans against the side of the SUV as Tony starts to pump the gas.
"No orders for me?" Gibbs asks.
Tony grins. "No way. You're the boss, Boss."
"Seems like you've done a good job becoming the boss. They listen to you."
"Yeah." Tony looks towards the door of the gas station, grins when he sees McGee and Ziva in the front window holding up various candy bars. "I'm tired of being the boss, though."
"Oh?"
"Don't get me wrong, the power trip's a lot of fun, but I spent a lot more time getting bitched out by people than before you left." Tony looks at Gibbs. "We're still your team, Boss. I was just keeping us warm."
Gibbs thinks that over for a moment. "I didn't tell the SecNav about us," he says.
"Yeah, I noticed that."
"If you get your own team, we could…" Gibbs grits his teeth when the words get stuck in his throat. "We wouldn't be working in a subordinate and supervisor relationship. If you had your own team, we'd be on equal footing, and we could…be out."
Tony raises his eyebrows. "That sounds like it hurt to say." He reaches over and touches Gibbs' arm just above his wrist. "I don't want to be in charge of a team right now. Maybe at some point it'll be worth looking into, but I'm fine where I am."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." Tony grins. "Hell, Ziva and McGee and Abby and Ducky know. Who else needs to? I like working with you, Boss. It let's me spend the day with you."
It's not fair, Gibbs thinks, that Tony wants to stick by him when he could easily find someone who could say such disgustingly romantic things back to him. "All right," he agrees. "If that's what you want."
"It is." And the happiness radiating from Tony broadcasts it's true. The gas pump clicks, and Tony reaches for the nozzle, bumping his arm against Gibbs' as he does so. "You're back. We should be re-instated sometime soon, and until then, we can come up with ways to keep ourselves occupied."
Gibbs snorts at Tony's tone. He's about to respond with a double-entendre, when Ziva and McGee come out of the gas station, both carrying cups in both hands and a plastic bag of snacks over one arm. "Think they bought the place out," Gibbs comments.
Tony looks up from screwing on the gas cap. "Good. I haven't had dinner, and I'm thinking it's probably best if we don't stop to eat."
Gibbs considers the calls he knows the SecNav is currently making. "No need to drive like a maniac—"
"Or you—"
"But keep your foot pressed down."
Tony holds up the car keys. "You can drive, you know."
"No. I'm still waiting for the call back."
"Cool." Tony reaches out when McGee gets in range, takes the soda from McGee's left hand and the bag of snacks. He peers into the bag and lets out an impressed whistle. "Chocolate caramel covered in chocolate? Good work, Probie."
"And Ziva's got those chips that taste like cheeseburgers," McGee tells him.
"And licorice," she says, handing Gibbs the travel cup of coffee in her right hand. "And something called Sixlets."
Gibbs groans. "Is there anything you got that won't destroy the lining on a man's stomach?"
Ziva blinks, all wid-eyed innocence. "I was under the impression that celebrations of this kind warranted terrible food choices."
"I've got a passable sandwich and a bag of potato chips in my bag, Boss," McGee says.
"Thank god for that," Gibbs mutters and takes a sip of his coffee so he can pretend not to see them trying to hide their amusement.
"Everybody in!" Tony declares around a mouthful of candy. "I'd like to get home before midnight!"
"You don't want to burn nightlight?" Ziva asks.
"Daylight," Tony corrects automatically. "You burn daylight."
Her brow creases in confusion. "How?"
"With matches," Tony replies. He eyes the sudden, blinding grin on McGee's face. "What?"
"Nothing," McGee says. "Just…glad we found you, Tony."
Tony's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Thanks," he says more loudly. "I appreciate—"
"You're welcome," Ziva cuts him off.
Tony looks from McGee to Ziva to Gibbs. He smiles, then nods once . "All right. Let's go. Everybody pile in! Ziva, if you don't share some of those Sixlets with me, I'm going to bleach all your black shirts."
"And then I'll break your arm," Ziva replies conversationally.
The next hour in the car is full of banter and teasing, Tony is leading McGee and Ziva in a sing-a-long with a pop station while Gibbs looks on and wishes for a video camera and a way to see how the three of them became this team, when Gibbs' phone rings. Tony immediately shuts off the radio, Ziva and McGee go silent. Gibbs looks at the caller ID.
Jennifer Sheppard.
"Gibbs," he answers, all business.
"The SecNav just got off the phone with me," Jenny greets him. "I'm being put on suspension pending investigation into my work with Le Grenouille."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Jenny hisses. "The SecNav somehow got his hands on my confidential file on the matter—"
"Seems you have a security breach," Gibbs interrupts. "You should probably look into that."
"Shove it up your ass, Jethro," Jenny barks. "You are retired. DiNozzo was justifiably fired. While McGee and Ziva have just enough of an excuse that I can't bring them up on insubordination charges, that does not excuse—"
"When does your suspension start?"
There's absolute silence on the line for five seconds. "Immediately," Jenny says, and Gibbs can picture her at her desk, one hand curled in a fist, her jaw clenched nearly shut.
"Guess I won't see you when I get back, then." Gibbs' phone beeps as Jenny starts to yell at him. He pulls it away from his ear. "It says I've got another call."
"Just push the button," Tony instructs him.
"Which button, DiNozzo? The whole phone is buttons."
Tony holds out his hand. Gibbs hands him the phone. Without looking away from the road, Tony pushes a button. "There. Whoever was calling you is now on the line, and the other call is on hold."
Gibbs takes back the phone. "Mr. Secretary," he says, "what can I do for you?"
"Director Sheppard's been suspended effective immediately," The SecNav tells him.
"I've heard."
"I thought you might have. She seemed to think you had something to do with it."
"What are her chances on reinstatement?"
"It depends on the file. I've only had the chance to give it a cursory review, but there are information gaps that need to be filled in, and given Sheppard's usually pristine reports, things are looking highly questionable."
"What about DiNozzo's reinstatement?"
"In the air, currently. Director Sheppard's argument of insubordination holds up to a certain extent—"
"She—"
"Jethro," the SecNav interrupts, "I'm not saying it will hold up all together. I'm saying that Sheppard's version of events need looking into." The SecNav takes a deep breath. "That being said, tell DiNozzo he probably has a week off."
Gibbs grins. "I will."
"As for you, there's no reason not to reinstate you beyond Sheppard's disagreement on the matter, but that'll be up to Assistant Director Vance for the time being. I'll be giving him a strong recommendation to put you back in the field as early as next week."
"Thank you, Sir."
The SecNav laughs. "Hell, Jethro, I didn't expect retirement to stick, but I didn't expect you to come back like this. Tell me you're sticking around long enough for me to start to forget this whole mess."
"I'm sticking around," Gibbs promises, and he sees Tony bite back a smile. "I owe you a beer, Sir."
"You owe me a brewery, Gibbs. I'll call you tomorrow once we start looking into things."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Talk to you soon, Gibbs."
Gibbs looks at his phone after the SecNav hangs up. "How do I get back to the other call?"
"Does it say you have another call waiting?" Tony asks.
"No."
"Then she hung up. Probably right about the time she realized you'd put her on hold."
Gibbs sticks his phone back in his pocket and turns in his seat so he can look around the headrest and see Ziva and McGee as well as Tony. "Jenny's been suspended starting immediately," he announces. "You two," he points to Ziva and McGee, "are probably clear to go back to work as early as tomorrow, but I'd say take whatever leave you put in for and wait for a call." Ziva and McGee nod. "DiNozzo and I should, if things play out, see you sometime next week."
"Where are you staying?" Ziva asks. "Neither of you have a place right now."
Gibbs starts to say they can get a hotel room, but he catches Tony's sudden flush. "What?" he asks.
"Your place is still intact," Tony says.
"I left Ducky instructions to put it on the market."
"I told Ducky to disregard the instructions," Tony admits. "And I sent my cleaning lady over once a week to air it out."
"Why the hell would you do a stupid thing like that?" Gibbs demands. "I was gone."
"Yeah." Tony flushes a deeper red. "I know."
"Worked out for the best, I suppose," Gibbs says, voice gruff. "Since I'm betting you made sure there was no way you could move back into your place."
"There's a waiting list at my place. I'm surprised it's still empty."
"The table's still there."
Tony glances at Gibbs, the flush slowly fading from my face. "We're gonna need to pick that up."
"You'd better believe it."
Silence settles in the car for a few minutes. Ziva rattles around in one of the snack bags. Gibbs leans back in his seat, watching traffic out the window. McGee clears his throat.
"Where's your stuff, Tony?" he asks. "Abby and I checked every storage facility within fifty miles, and we couldn't find your name anywhere."
"The cousin who shampooed the carpets, her business also includes moving services and storage."
"Abby said it was just a carpet-cleaning business."
"It is in the D.C. area. On Long Island, it's all three."
McGee leans back in his seat to think it over. "Something like that you'd have to plan, wouldn't you? Even with family connections, to get lost as quickly as you did, it takes pre-planning."
Tony scoffs. "Oh, Probie, when will you learn that I'm just that good?"
"But you're not."
Tony's shoulders tense. "I've had some practice," he says in the serious tone that always makes McGee look scared. "I'm as good as I say I am."
McGee gapes. Ziva leans over and closes his mouth. McGee shakes off her hand and leans forward so that his head pokes between the front seats. "Get out of practice," he barks in a fair imitation of Tony's own command voice, and then he throws himself back against his own seat.
Gibbs watches Tony flex his hands on the steering wheel. "I'll take it under advisement, Probie," Tony says, then clears his throat hard, reaches over and flicks on the radio.
*
Ducky calls as Tony takes the first exit towards Quantico. "I'm working late waiting for a toxicology on a young solider dead from suspicious circumstances, and I just received the most interesting e-mail from Assistant Director Vance."
"Give me the broad strokes, Duck."
"You're welcome back on the premises, and it appears that Director Sheppard is under investigation for misuse of NCIS resources."
"Good to know, Duck."
"Have a pleasant evening, Jethro."
"Good night, Duck." Gibbs closes his phone. "I'm allowed back on the premises," he says.
"Which leads to the logical conclusion that you will soon be reinstated," Ziva replies. "Yes?"
"Yeah. Sounds like."
"Good."
They drive the rest of the way in silence, Tony getting out of the SUV and walking into the rental office before the others can get their seatbelts undone. "I'll get the bill," he mumbles as he hurries away.
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks.
"Leave him alone," Gibbs orders. "He's had a rough few days."
"We all have," McGee grouses, but he stays put, leaning against the SUV and rubbing a hand over his face.
But you've had family before, Gibbs thinks. Rather than say it, he waves McGee and Ziva away. "Go home. Get some rest. You may be needed at work in the morning." They both hesitate. "Now." Gibbs snaps, and Ziva and McGee walk away, walking side-by-side to the bus stop up the street.
Tony comes outside, a tired grin on his face. "All right, the fees on the car are taken care of, and I called a cab while I was inside. Do Ziva and McGee need…" He trails off when he realizes Ziva and McGee aren't with Gibbs. "Where'd they go?"
"I sent them to find their own way home." Gibbs reaches out, hooks his arm around Tony's neck, and reels him in close.
"Thanks," Tony mumbles, nose brushing Gibb's neck before he straightens up. "I don't think I could handle more of Probie's puppy dog looks. Or more of Ziva's non-murderous looks."
"Figured as much," Gibbs replies, and he keeps his arm around Tony's neck until they have to get into the cab.
The cab ride is silent, save Gibbs giving his address and the radio station the cabbie is playing low. Tony leans against him, warming the whole side of him, and Gibbs watches Tony's face as they pass under the street lights. I'm sorry, he wants to say. I didn't mean to leave. Tony turns and looks at him. He's not smiling, but there's contentment in the way he puts his hand on Gibbs' knee.
The cabbie drops them off, and Gibbs watches Tony tip him at least twice the fare. "That was unnecessary," he says.
"I'm feeling generous," Tony replies, and he digs into his pocket for his key ring, unlocking Gibbs' door before Gibbs can figure out if he even still has a house key.
"I've got the copy on here, too," Tony says as they step inside and Gibbs turns on the lights. He sorts through the keys. "You have your keys on you? You probably—" Tony raises his eyebrows when Gibbs snatches his keys from his hand and throws them across the room. "You're gonna have to help me find those."
"I'll get on that," Gibbs says and pulls at Tony's belt. "After sex."
"Hell, yes, after sex!" Tony strips off his shirt and toes off his shoes as Gibbs finishes with his belt. He slides his fingers down the buttons of Gibbs' shirt and starts unbuttoning it from the bottom. "Sheets should be clean," he says.
"Like I give a fuck, DiNozzo." Gibbs grabs Tony by the back of the neck, stumbles them towards the bedroom, lets Tony drag him into a hard, sucking kiss as they fall onto the bed.
"Fuck," Tony mutters when Gibbs bites his neck. He scratches his nails down Gibbs' back, slides his fingertips into the waistband of Gibbs' jeans, and trails his fingers around to the front, popping the button and lowering the zipper. "Missed you," He breathes into Gibbs' mouth as he yanks at Gibb's jeans.
"You, too," Gibbs replies, and he presses on Tony's biceps until he stops moving, then reaches down and opens and pulls off Tony's jeans and underwear before removing his own. He gives Tony's hip a smack, and Tony rotates on the bed so that he's laying the proper way. He grins and reaches out a hand.
"C'mere," Tony says, and then he's kissing Gibbs, soft and warm and just a little dangerous, with his teeth nipping on the corner of Gibbs' mouth. Tony arches against him, drapes a leg around Gibbs' hip and reels him in. He brings up his other leg and tightens his grip.
"We can't do much like this," Gibbs tells him as he cards a hand through Tony's hair and tilts his head to kiss him deeply.
"We can do enough." Tony proves his point by shifting his hips and pressing upward. His dick slides along the crease where Gibbs' left thigh meets his leg. Gibbs grunts and adjusts himself in the grip of Tony's legs.
"Ease up a little," Gibbs growls.
"Don't want to."
Gibbs presses his teeth into Tony's shoulder, grins when Tony yelps. Tony's legs loosen enough for Gibbs to get a hand between them, wrap it around both their dicks. Tony's eyes roll back when Gibbs presses just below the head of his dick. "That's it," Gibbs mutters. "You like that." Tony gives him a shaky smile, teeth clenching when Gibbs presses his weight down. "Too much?"
"N-n-no." Tony stutters. "Just…More." He groans when Gibbs squeezes his hand on the down stroke. "Yes," Tony whispers. Gibbs lifts his torso at the same time as he shifts the weight off his free arm to his hips. "Fuck," Tony moans. His legs tighten again, and he pulls at Gibbs' shoulders. "Come here," he begs. "Come here."
Gibbs takes his hand off of their dicks, plants it beside Tony's head, let's Tony pull him down so that they're cheek-to-cheek, Tony's ragged breath echoing in his ear.
"Gibbs," Tony breathes into his ear. "God, Gibbs."
Gibbs can't say anything. He's gritting his teeth, fingers gripping the sheet on either side of Tony's head. He thrusts, the combined sweat from their bodies making him lose purchase and shift the weight to his arms to keep from crushing Tony under his weight. "Tony," he gets out.
Tony rears up, chin nearly colliding with Gibbs' jaw as he takes a hard kiss, tongue wild in Gibbs' mouth, teeth scraping Gibbs' cheek as Tony gets knocked off course because Gibbs is pressing down harder, making his strokes shorter, grunting with the effort as he drops his weight to his hips, uncurls one hand from the sheets, and rakes his fingernails down Tony's side.
"Yes," Tony hisses. "Fucking yes." He pulls Gibbs in tighter still, arms clenching around his shoulders, hips coming off the bed. "C'mon," Tony growls. "C'mon."
Gibbs can't stop himself from coming, the raw edge in Tony's voice the final necessity for Gibbs' orgasm to take over. He lies limp against Tony, his breathing evening out as Tony squirms underneath him and pokes him in the side.
"Some of us have stamina," he says, and he looks completely unrepentant when Gibbs tries to glare at him. "Little help?"
Gibbs grunts and slides off Tony, settling on his side. "Come here," he says, and Tony curls close to him, sliding one of his legs through Gibbs'. He closes his eyes when Gibbs curls a hand around him. "Easy," Tony murmurs, and Gibbs loosens his hold, watching Tony close his eyes and smile, watches a shudder work its way from Tony's legs to his hips to his stomach and his chest. When it gets up to his neck, Gibbs leans in, bites softly, noses behind Tony's ear. "Missed you," he whispers, so quiet he's not sure Tony can hear him over his own panting.
It's another two minutes, Tony's breathing getting more erratic, his groans getting deeper, and then he's coming, eyes screwed shut and hands tight on Gibbs' shoulders. Gibbs watches him come down, feels the phantom pressure of Tony's hands as he loosens his hold on Gibbs' shoulders.
"I missed you, too." Tony says at a normal speaking level.
Gibbs wrestles the blanket out from under both of them, pulls it to cover them up to the waist as he puts a hand on Tony's arm to keep him from shifting away. "C'mere," he says, and Tony slides over, lines up against Gibbs' side, and hooks an arm around Gibbs' waist.
"'Night," Tony mumbles, and he's asleep in another minute, the arm around Gibbs' waist going slack and becoming heavy. If Gibbs breathes too deeply in the night, there's a good chance it'll wake Tony up.
"'Night," Gibbs says to the ceiling, and he closes his eyes.
*
Gibbs comes awake to the smells of coffee and bacon. He slips on his boxers from the day before, digs his cell out of his pants pocket, and walks into the kitchen. "Since when do you get out of bed before me?"
Tony glances over his shoulder, a metal bowl tucked into the crook of his elbow, a whisk in his other hand. "Team supervisors don't get to wander in late," he replies. "Figured that out after I showed up one morning, and McGee and Ziva were playing paper football because I hadn't assigned them anything to keep them busy."
"Yeah," Gibbs says with a grin, "they do that." He looks over Tony's shoulder to the countertop. There are bits of onion on the cutting board, a paper bag from the local grocery store has eggshells on the edge. The coffee pot is filled to the top. "You kept everything here? Even the kitchen stuff?"
"Not the food. I ran out for that." Tony says, concentrating on whisking the eggs. "I'm a sap," he adds at Gibbs' raised eyebrows. "Let's leave it at that."
Gibbs wraps an arm around Tony's waist, presses against his back and watches him pour the eggs into a skillet. "I—"
"Apologies make you look weak," Tony interrupts. "And if you actually give one, your jaw will clench shut for a week."
"Tony—"
"You're a bastard," Tony says, and there's affection in his tone, "and I know this. Don't try to make amends you don't need to make."
"I left."
"And I'm okay with that." Tony pokes at the eggs with a fork. "Because the next time you do it, I'm shooting out your knees." Tony says it playfully, but there's a promise in his undertone. He might not shoot him, Gibbs thinks, but he'll let Gibbs go and not take him back. Gibbs is certain he'd rather give up his knees.
"Okay," Gibbs says, and he steps away from Tony to get plates from the cupboard.
Three-quarters of the way through his half of the omlet, Gibbs' phone rings. He answers it as he smacks Tony's hand away from his plate with his fork. "Gibbs."
"Agent Gibbs, this is acting Director Vance."
"What can I do for you, Director?" Gibbs asks. At his question, Tony stops trying to steal bites of his omlet. The hand not holding his fork curls into a fist. Gibbs pokes at it with his fork, and Tony opens his hand again.
"I've just been informed by the SecNav that if I wish, I can have you and Agent DiNozzo as full-time field agents."
"And?" Gibbs prompts.
"How's Thursday work for you? I'd give you the week, but I'm two agents short since you two aren't in rotation, and David and McGee are out for the week on recommended leave."
"Thursday," Gibbs repeats. He raises his eyebrows at Tony. Tony nods. "Thursday's fine."
"Good. Now, can you tell me the best way to get in touch with Agent DiNozzo? His phone's off."
"We're grabbing breakfast. I'll relay the information."
"Appreciate it. Have a good day, Agent Gibbs. I'll see you Thursday."
"Yes, Sir." Gibbs cuts the call and points a finger at DiNozzo. "Your phone's still of."
"Shit." Tony stands up and walks to the bedroom. Gibbs listens to him toss around clothes. After a moment of silence, the tone of Tony's phone turning on carries down the hall. "I have twenty-one missed calls," Tony calls down the hall.
"Most of them are probably Abby," Gibbs replies.
Tony walks back into the room, phone in one hand. "Six," he says. "Three on Saturday. Two on Sunday. One on Monday. McGee and Ziva both called six times, and Ducky called twice. One is from Vance, and two are from Madame Director." Tony pulls a face. "From Friday. She left a message on the second one."
Gibbs stands up and walks over to Tony. Taking the phone, he presses buttons until the voicemail activates. "Delete them," he orders.
Tony presses the zero until the phone beeps. "All gone." He smiles. "Do I get a cookie?"
"You get the rest of my omlet," Gibbs tells him. "Eat quick. Vance wants us back in the office on Thursday, and we need to get organized."
Tony groans as he steals Gibbs' leftovers from his plate. "I need to find a place," he says.
"No you don't."
Tony looks up, a piece of egg dangling from the corner of his mouth. "What?"
Gibbs wants to repeat it, but he can't. "You heard me, DiNozzo. Offer's on the table."
"The table's still at my old place," Tony replies, and there's mischief and happiness in his eyes.
Gibbs grins. He leans across the table and wipes the egg from the corner of Tony's mouth. "Five minutes and we're out the door. We're wasting daylight."
"On it." Tony shovels down the rest of his breakfast, gulps his coffee in three quick swallows. He crowds Gibbs back against the kitchen wall and pecks him on the mouth. "Give me two minutes to put on my pants."
Gibbs reels him in before he can do more than back away a step. He looks at Tony from a distance of six inches. Say it, he thinks, but he knows he won't. He grips Tony's wrist instead, strokes the tendon below his thumb.
"You too, Gibbs," Tony says, and he lets his hand trail behind him as he pulls away. "Two minutes," he says, and Gibbs nods in agreement, following Tony down the hall so he can get dressed himself, and thinking, as they get into the car and start the trip across town, where, exactly, the table can go. And where to build the shelves for Tony's DVDs.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: R
Summary: Season 4 didn't happen. Or it did, but it started a completely different way. (AKA Gibbs, DiNozzo, the team, and a merry chase.)
Disclaimer: Lies and bullshit, of course.
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be a little bit of
comment_fic fun. Then it exploded and got everywhere. Many thanks to catheral_junki for awesome betaing. Much love to shoshannagold and lasergirl for keeping me company while I wrote.Dedication: For
tigriswolf, who put up the prompt and let me run away with it, with no guarantee that I would actually finish what I started. I hope you like it. Part One!
The door opens. Tony stands framed in the doorway, light spilling around him from the picture window on the opposite wall. There's a coffee cup in his left hand. His right is still holding the doorknob. He stares at Gibbs for a second, then two, then five. "…the hell?"
"You stormed out of headquarters, turned off your phone, and cleared out of your apartment." Gibbs says, surprised at the gruffness in his voice. "You think I wouldn't show up to drag your ass back to work?"
Tony blinks. He takes a long drink of his coffee, his eyes never leaving Gibbs. "No," he says, voice light but dangerous. "I didn't."
"Then you should have hidden out somewhere I don't know about." Gibbs steps forward meaning to push Tony back into the room. Tony doesn't budge, and they bump chests. "You shouldn't have hidden out in the hotel where I found you the first time."
"Told you the first time, if you can't be with your family—"
"Be near your family," Gibbs finishes. Their first meeting flashes in his memory. The call from Miller, an old platoon buddy who'd retired from the Marines and gone to work as a Baltimore detective. Miller had promised a great agent for at least two years if Gibbs could track him down. "He's the best undercover I've seen, Gibbs, but he's got a hair trigger."
"How bad?"
"According to his former bosses in Peoria and Philadelphia, once he quits, he's gone."
"Gone?"
"I've got it on good authority that after he quit here, he was moved out of his apartment in 24 hours."
Gibbs had whistled, thanked Miller, and headed down to Abby's lab. Abby had found him in less than an hour. Gibbs had driven up that day, knocked on the door and been greeted with a blinding bright smile that had fallen into something soft and careful and a little scared when Gibbs had made his offer.
He remembers the way Tony said it the first time, "If you can't be with your family," and he'd given a self-deprecating smirk, "be near your family." The smiles had been great, and they'd become Tony's joke—everyone at NCIS knew about Tony getting hired for his "smile"—but it was that smirk, the tone, the slight hopeful edge, that had made Gibbs decide DiNozzo was going to be an agent, and none of that, 'two years and gone' bullshit.
"Five years, Dinozzo. Beat your records from all your old precincts."
"Yay." Tony presses a little harder against Gibbs. "And if you don't mind, I'm waiting for a bastard to show up and offer me a job."
"I'm right here."
"You don't work anymore, remember? You're…retired." He says the word with the same down-the-nose superiority as the clerk downstairs. "You grew a moustache to celebrate, I see."
"Like it?"
"You look like a pedophile."
"I'll shave it."
"I'm sure your next ex-wife will appreciate the effort."
"What about you?"
Tony lifts his coffee mug again, takes a drink six inches from Gibbs' face. "What about me?"
"You pack up your whole life in less than 48 hours, move out in a way that the neighbors know you did but can't confirm it's you, and then you left the table. And those movies."
"Movers must have forgotten them."
"And you used some family member based up here to get your carpets clean."
"She cut me a deal."
"Sure." Gibbs stares into Tony's eyes, lifts a hand from his side and presses it to Tony's waist. "You gonna invite me in?"
"You going to leave if you take another explosion to the head?"
"I don't plan to take another explosion to the head."
"That wasn't the question."
Gibbs presses his hand more firmly against Tony's side, watches Tony's face for disinterest or anger. All he sees is Tony's eyes, the curve of his jaw, and the length of his neck. Like Tony's here and solid but not quite paying attention. "No," Gibbs breathes out. "I'm not leaving again."
Tony eyes him, looking for sincerity, Gibbs is sure, and something else he can't pinpoint. Tony takes a step backwards, another, until he's standing to the side of the door. He gestures with his coffee cup. "Won't you come in?"
Gibbs steps into the room, whistles under his breath as he checks out the size of the place. It's a suite, with a full living room and a bedroom off to the left. There's a kitchenette with a sink and full-sized refrigerator. "Last time I was here, you were in a basic king-sized."
"Last time you were here was five years ago," Tony reminds him. "Some of my investments have taken me up in the world."
Gibbs walks over to the coffee pot, opens cupboards until he finds a mug. "McGee and Ziva are downstairs," he says. "They know."
"About what?"
"That you left because Jenny tried to use you as a glorified gigolo. That you have enough cash hidden away that you can make a quick escape." Gibbs sips his coffee and walks to a set of armchairs. There's a crossword on the table beside one of them. He sits in the other. "That you and I had a relationship."
Tony sits in the chair across from Gibbs. He puts down his coffee mug and links his hands, resting them in his lap. "Hacked?"
"Oh, yeah." Gibbs watches Tony fight the smile off of his face. The feeling in the room changes, from cautious welcome to expectation, and when Tony reaches for his coffee mug again, Gibbs knows he has to be the one to break the silence. "You left the table," he starts. "And Love in the Afternoon. I'm assuming those were hints."
"To what?"
The problem with good undercover agents, Gibbs knows, is their ability to sound completely uninterested when they are, in reality they want information. Tony's face is bland, watching Gibbs like they're having a conversation about a finished case or the price of gas. "You wanted me to find you," Gibbs says. "You left the table and the first movie we watched at your place."
"I also left two other movies."
"Set in New York. And then you just happened to turn on your phone long enough for Abby to pinpoint you."
Tony's face gives away nothing. "Did I?"
"And Abby sent us here, and we got to threaten the desk clerk."
"He's kind of an ass."
Gibbs smirks. "He is. Tell me you wanted to be found."
"I left behind a few things. That's all."
"Tell me you wanted to be found."
Tony leans back in his chair, sticks his legs out in front of him. He looks Gibbs over from his toes to the top of his head, stopping to shake his head at the moustache. "Tell me you wanted to find me."
He could just say it, Gibbs knows, deliver it as the fact it is. Tony will believe him, will read his sincerity. But he also knows what he's done to Tony, leaving like he did, handing in his resignation and leaving Tony and the rest of them to fend for themselves with no warning and no help. Knows how terribly Tony reacts to people he cares about voluntarily dropping out of his life. If he doesn't explain, Tony will still assume, deep down, that it's him. That's he's done something, yet again, to make someone walk away from him.
"Jenny called to tell me she'd fired you. I called McGee and Abby to find out why. Three hours later, I was on a flight into D.C. Would have been sooner, but Abby booked the flight."
"That wasn't my question."
"I'm getting there." Gibbs leans back in his chair, sticks out his legs so that he can tap Tony's foot with his own if he wants. "Tell me you left the table on purpose."
Tony's lips quirk up in a small smile. "I left the table on purpose."
"And the movies."
"I'll only confirm the table."
Gibbs feels himself smile. "Fine. You left the table on purpose."
"Yes."
"As a note to me."
Tony points his toes and rotates his ankles, almost—but not quite—touching Gibbs' feet. "Yes."
"Because you knew word would get back to me."
"No." Tony shakes his head. "I didn't know that."
"How could you not know that?"
Tony's jaw twitches. He takes a drink from his coffee, and Gibbs can see his hand shaking. "I could have assumed you would find out," Tony says, his tone wavering between even and angry, "if you'd bothered to call in the last three months."
Gibbs breathes out hard. "I deserved that."
"And so much more," Tony mutters. He juts out his chin when Gibbs glares at him. "I've got a list."
"I bet." Gibbs shifts his foot, taps it against Tony's. Tony doesn't move. "Five years," Gibbs says, "and you can still pack up and move in less than a day."
"Why stick around once the job is finished?" Tony asks.
Gibbs watches Tony try to keep his face bland. "You've jabbed and insulted everyone you've worked with, been occasionally insubordinate, and been—quite possibly—the most self-destructive undercover agent who doesn't have a death wish." Gibbs stands up, takes the two steps to Tony's chair, and leans down, his hands clamping down on the armrests, trapping Tony in his seat. "You tried not to do it, Tony, but you put down roots, and they're downstairs right now sneering at the clerk. Two of them are back at headquarters, flaunting a direct order from Jenny to make sure you're safe. Hell, Palmer was assisting when we left. And I'm right here, in your face, having dragged my ass out of Mexico, letting everyone insult my mustache, and I'm telling you that I wanted to find you."
Tony raises his eyebrows and sits up straight. When he tilts his head, he and Gibbs are nearly nose-to-nose. "You could have called."
"I'm a bastard."
"You could have sent a text."
"I'm a bastard."
"You could have sent a fucking carrier pigeon."
"Still a bastard."
Tony narrows his eyes. "Yeah. You are." He lifts a hand, wraps it around the back of Gibbs' neck. "I wanted you to find me."
"Goddamn right you did." Gibbs dips his head, pauses, lets Tony pull him in the rest of the way into the kiss.
Tony kisses him hard, twisting his fingers into the hair at the nape of Gibbs' neck. His other hand wraps around Gibbs' bicep, nails digging in even through Gibbs' shirt. When he pulls away, he's panting, eyes bright. "If you're not staying, I get to punch you in the mouth."
"I'm staying," Gibbs promises.
"Good." Tony licks his lips and takes his hand off Gibbs' bicep. "I'm willing to forego all long conversations about our feelings if you are."
"Agreed."
Tony smirks. "Thought so." He puts a hand on Gibbs' chest and pushes him backwards so he can stand up. "What's next?"
Gibbs considers his options. "We both need to get re-instated," he says, "and I've got to find a way to get Ziva and McGee back to work without Jenny being able to toss them both out for helping me with finding you." Tony looks stricken, and Gibbs points a finger at him. "Nobody made them come along, DiNozzo. Get that look off your face."
"If they're fired because—"
"They're not. Or, if they are, they won't be for long. I've got it handled."
"How deep are they in?"
"They're both taking psychologist prescribed leave. They just happened to request it after Jenny spent a solid seventeen minutes yelling at McGee."
Tony puts his hands over his face. "Shit."
"Not your fault, Tony. This is what family does." Gibbs steps close, pulls Tony's hands away from his face. "And I think I've still got enough favors stocked away to get us all taken care of."
Tony breathes in deep, and Gibbs watches as he settles himself, rolling his shoulders and working his jaw back and forth. "All right," Tony agrees. "Let's do this."
Gibbs looks around the room. "Where's your go-bag?"
"In the closet." Tony grabs Gibbs' arm as he turns to retrieve it. "Hold on. There's one more thing."
*
McGee's sitting in a chair, flipping through a magazine, and Ziva's pacing the perimeter of the lobby when Gibbs and Tony step off the elevator. They both stop what they're doing and look up as Gibbs and Tony walk across the lobby. McGee stands, breaks into a grin, and bounces on his toes.
"You're coming back?" he asks.
Tony grins. "Apparently, Probie."
"And you?" Ziva asks Gibbs. "Are you coming back as well?"
"Someone's got to make sure you three stay employed," Gibbs replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the keys to the rental car. "Ziva, start the car. McGee call Abby again and let her know things are settled. Tony and I are going to settle the bill." McGee and Ziva don’t move for a second, both staring at Gibbs. "Now." Gibbs snaps, and they make tracks for the door.
"And just when I got them trained," Tony mutters. "I had Probie bringing me coffee."
"What about Ziva?"
"She'd stopped threatening to kill me."
"Not bad for three months."
"Thanks."
The desk clerk smiles when Tony steps up to the counter and pulls out his wallet. "Checking out, Mr. DiNozzo?"
"Yes."
"Let me bring up your bill." The desk clerk turns to type on the computer and spares Gibbs a short glance. "I see you found your," he pauses for a beat, "friend."
"Yes, he did," Tony says, voice smooth.
"Your bill, Sir."
"Thank you, Brandt." Tony takes the print-out of the bill and skims it. "Everything looks to be in order." He opens his wallet and pulls out a stack of bills. "This should cover everything."
Brandt smiles, counts the money, and tucks one of the bills into his own pocket. "Thank you, Mr. DiNozzo." He glances at Gibbs again. "If I may say so, I preferred the moustache."
"Noted," Gibbs replies, and he tucks his hand into Tony's elbow, pulling him towards the door. "He's an ass," Gibbs says to Tony loud enough that he hears Brandt sniff in disapproval.
"He's paid very well to be an ass," Tony tells him. "And until you came in and scared him, he was the most reliable closed-mouth in Long Island."
"He'll recover."
"He should. I won't need to come back here for awhile."
Gibbs tightens his grip on Tony's elbow for a second. "Good to hear," he says as he leads Tony to the car.
Ziva and McGee are in the back seat of the SUV when Tony and Gibbs cross the street. "I'm driving," Tony says.
"Like hell," Gibbs replies.
"You have to start calling in favors," Tony points out. "You can't do that and drive."
Gibbs glances at his watch. It's just after six. "All right," he agrees. He climbs into the passenger seat, catches McGee's surprised look from the corner of his eye. "You want me to drive, McGee?" he asks.
McGee opens his mouth, closes it. "As long as it's not Ziva," he says, and manages to dodge Ziva's slap.
Tony gets into the driver's seat. "Seatbelts, kiddies," he says. When he glances over his shoulder to the back seat, Ziva punches him in the arm. "Hey!"
"For leaving," she says, then turns and looks out the window.
Tony grins, then winces as McGee slaps him in the back of the head. "Probie!"
"Tony," Gibbs says before McGee can defend himself, "you're lucky that wasn't from me."
Tony eyes Gibbs, glances in the rearview mirror and nods. A second later, Ziva slaps Gibbs on the back of the head. "We're even," Tony declares and navigates into traffic.
Gibbs shakes his head and pulls out his cell, dialing a number from memory.
The phone rings twice before the line is picked up. "Office of the Secretary of the Navy. This is Nicole."
"Jethro Gibbs from NCIS," Gibbs replies. "I need to speak with the SecNav."
"He's in meetings all day, Mr. Gibbs. I'm happy to schedule a callback."
"It's of high importance, Nicole. I need you to take a note into him that has my name on it."
"The Secretary of the—"
"Nicole," Gibbs puts steel into his voice, "it's important."
Nicole does not respond immediately, but Gibbs can hear something getting written down. "If you'll give me a moment, Sir, I'll see if the SecNav can speak with you."
"Thank you." Gibbs grimaces at the hold music and pulls the phone away from his ear. In the back seat, Ziva is explaining to McGee how best to break a man's thumbs. Tony has one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the tuner knob on the radio looking for a station. The hold music cuts off.
"Mr. Gibbs?"
"I'm here."
"One moment for the SecNav, please." There's no hold music this time, just the click of the line being transferred.
"Jethro?" The SecNav sounds shocked. "I thought you'd retired."
"I did."
The SecNav laughs. "Get bored already?"
Gibbs looks at Tony. "Something like that. I'd like to be reinstated."
"You can talk to Director Sheppard about that. She's the one who'll have to put through the paperwork."
"Sir, if I could go to Director Sheppard, I would, but there's been a complication."
There's silence on the other end of the line. "As much as it might later incriminate me as an accessory, I suppose you'll have to tell me what you did."
McGee yelps in the back seat, and Gibbs watches Tony grin when he glances in the mirror. "It was more of a team effort, Sir."
"Always is with you, Gibbs." There's a creaking sound, like the SecNav is getting comfortable in his chair. "Give me the whole thing, Gibbs," he orders. "Or enough that the details you leave out aren't ones I need to make this work."
Gibbs takes a moment to figure out where to start. "What do you know about La Grenouille?"
*
An hour later, as Tony takes an exit to find a gas station, Gibbs closes his phone and rubs his eyes. "All right," he says as Tony clicks off the radio, "The SecNav's going to make some calls. Said it should take a couple of hours."
"I called Abby while you were on with the SecNav," McGee says, "she's going to forward him the La Grenouille file."
"Good job, McGee," Tony says before Gibbs can say the same. He pulls up to the pump and cuts the engine. "Ziva and McGee, you're on snack duty. I want something with negative nutritional value. I'll get gas."
Ziva and McGee get out the car and walk into the gas station. Tony gets out of the car and starts pressing buttons on the pump. Gibbs walks around from the passenger side and leans against the side of the SUV as Tony starts to pump the gas.
"No orders for me?" Gibbs asks.
Tony grins. "No way. You're the boss, Boss."
"Seems like you've done a good job becoming the boss. They listen to you."
"Yeah." Tony looks towards the door of the gas station, grins when he sees McGee and Ziva in the front window holding up various candy bars. "I'm tired of being the boss, though."
"Oh?"
"Don't get me wrong, the power trip's a lot of fun, but I spent a lot more time getting bitched out by people than before you left." Tony looks at Gibbs. "We're still your team, Boss. I was just keeping us warm."
Gibbs thinks that over for a moment. "I didn't tell the SecNav about us," he says.
"Yeah, I noticed that."
"If you get your own team, we could…" Gibbs grits his teeth when the words get stuck in his throat. "We wouldn't be working in a subordinate and supervisor relationship. If you had your own team, we'd be on equal footing, and we could…be out."
Tony raises his eyebrows. "That sounds like it hurt to say." He reaches over and touches Gibbs' arm just above his wrist. "I don't want to be in charge of a team right now. Maybe at some point it'll be worth looking into, but I'm fine where I am."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." Tony grins. "Hell, Ziva and McGee and Abby and Ducky know. Who else needs to? I like working with you, Boss. It let's me spend the day with you."
It's not fair, Gibbs thinks, that Tony wants to stick by him when he could easily find someone who could say such disgustingly romantic things back to him. "All right," he agrees. "If that's what you want."
"It is." And the happiness radiating from Tony broadcasts it's true. The gas pump clicks, and Tony reaches for the nozzle, bumping his arm against Gibbs' as he does so. "You're back. We should be re-instated sometime soon, and until then, we can come up with ways to keep ourselves occupied."
Gibbs snorts at Tony's tone. He's about to respond with a double-entendre, when Ziva and McGee come out of the gas station, both carrying cups in both hands and a plastic bag of snacks over one arm. "Think they bought the place out," Gibbs comments.
Tony looks up from screwing on the gas cap. "Good. I haven't had dinner, and I'm thinking it's probably best if we don't stop to eat."
Gibbs considers the calls he knows the SecNav is currently making. "No need to drive like a maniac—"
"Or you—"
"But keep your foot pressed down."
Tony holds up the car keys. "You can drive, you know."
"No. I'm still waiting for the call back."
"Cool." Tony reaches out when McGee gets in range, takes the soda from McGee's left hand and the bag of snacks. He peers into the bag and lets out an impressed whistle. "Chocolate caramel covered in chocolate? Good work, Probie."
"And Ziva's got those chips that taste like cheeseburgers," McGee tells him.
"And licorice," she says, handing Gibbs the travel cup of coffee in her right hand. "And something called Sixlets."
Gibbs groans. "Is there anything you got that won't destroy the lining on a man's stomach?"
Ziva blinks, all wid-eyed innocence. "I was under the impression that celebrations of this kind warranted terrible food choices."
"I've got a passable sandwich and a bag of potato chips in my bag, Boss," McGee says.
"Thank god for that," Gibbs mutters and takes a sip of his coffee so he can pretend not to see them trying to hide their amusement.
"Everybody in!" Tony declares around a mouthful of candy. "I'd like to get home before midnight!"
"You don't want to burn nightlight?" Ziva asks.
"Daylight," Tony corrects automatically. "You burn daylight."
Her brow creases in confusion. "How?"
"With matches," Tony replies. He eyes the sudden, blinding grin on McGee's face. "What?"
"Nothing," McGee says. "Just…glad we found you, Tony."
Tony's eyes widen in shock. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Thanks," he says more loudly. "I appreciate—"
"You're welcome," Ziva cuts him off.
Tony looks from McGee to Ziva to Gibbs. He smiles, then nods once . "All right. Let's go. Everybody pile in! Ziva, if you don't share some of those Sixlets with me, I'm going to bleach all your black shirts."
"And then I'll break your arm," Ziva replies conversationally.
The next hour in the car is full of banter and teasing, Tony is leading McGee and Ziva in a sing-a-long with a pop station while Gibbs looks on and wishes for a video camera and a way to see how the three of them became this team, when Gibbs' phone rings. Tony immediately shuts off the radio, Ziva and McGee go silent. Gibbs looks at the caller ID.
Jennifer Sheppard.
"Gibbs," he answers, all business.
"The SecNav just got off the phone with me," Jenny greets him. "I'm being put on suspension pending investigation into my work with Le Grenouille."
"Oh?"
"Yes," Jenny hisses. "The SecNav somehow got his hands on my confidential file on the matter—"
"Seems you have a security breach," Gibbs interrupts. "You should probably look into that."
"Shove it up your ass, Jethro," Jenny barks. "You are retired. DiNozzo was justifiably fired. While McGee and Ziva have just enough of an excuse that I can't bring them up on insubordination charges, that does not excuse—"
"When does your suspension start?"
There's absolute silence on the line for five seconds. "Immediately," Jenny says, and Gibbs can picture her at her desk, one hand curled in a fist, her jaw clenched nearly shut.
"Guess I won't see you when I get back, then." Gibbs' phone beeps as Jenny starts to yell at him. He pulls it away from his ear. "It says I've got another call."
"Just push the button," Tony instructs him.
"Which button, DiNozzo? The whole phone is buttons."
Tony holds out his hand. Gibbs hands him the phone. Without looking away from the road, Tony pushes a button. "There. Whoever was calling you is now on the line, and the other call is on hold."
Gibbs takes back the phone. "Mr. Secretary," he says, "what can I do for you?"
"Director Sheppard's been suspended effective immediately," The SecNav tells him.
"I've heard."
"I thought you might have. She seemed to think you had something to do with it."
"What are her chances on reinstatement?"
"It depends on the file. I've only had the chance to give it a cursory review, but there are information gaps that need to be filled in, and given Sheppard's usually pristine reports, things are looking highly questionable."
"What about DiNozzo's reinstatement?"
"In the air, currently. Director Sheppard's argument of insubordination holds up to a certain extent—"
"She—"
"Jethro," the SecNav interrupts, "I'm not saying it will hold up all together. I'm saying that Sheppard's version of events need looking into." The SecNav takes a deep breath. "That being said, tell DiNozzo he probably has a week off."
Gibbs grins. "I will."
"As for you, there's no reason not to reinstate you beyond Sheppard's disagreement on the matter, but that'll be up to Assistant Director Vance for the time being. I'll be giving him a strong recommendation to put you back in the field as early as next week."
"Thank you, Sir."
The SecNav laughs. "Hell, Jethro, I didn't expect retirement to stick, but I didn't expect you to come back like this. Tell me you're sticking around long enough for me to start to forget this whole mess."
"I'm sticking around," Gibbs promises, and he sees Tony bite back a smile. "I owe you a beer, Sir."
"You owe me a brewery, Gibbs. I'll call you tomorrow once we start looking into things."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Talk to you soon, Gibbs."
Gibbs looks at his phone after the SecNav hangs up. "How do I get back to the other call?"
"Does it say you have another call waiting?" Tony asks.
"No."
"Then she hung up. Probably right about the time she realized you'd put her on hold."
Gibbs sticks his phone back in his pocket and turns in his seat so he can look around the headrest and see Ziva and McGee as well as Tony. "Jenny's been suspended starting immediately," he announces. "You two," he points to Ziva and McGee, "are probably clear to go back to work as early as tomorrow, but I'd say take whatever leave you put in for and wait for a call." Ziva and McGee nod. "DiNozzo and I should, if things play out, see you sometime next week."
"Where are you staying?" Ziva asks. "Neither of you have a place right now."
Gibbs starts to say they can get a hotel room, but he catches Tony's sudden flush. "What?" he asks.
"Your place is still intact," Tony says.
"I left Ducky instructions to put it on the market."
"I told Ducky to disregard the instructions," Tony admits. "And I sent my cleaning lady over once a week to air it out."
"Why the hell would you do a stupid thing like that?" Gibbs demands. "I was gone."
"Yeah." Tony flushes a deeper red. "I know."
"Worked out for the best, I suppose," Gibbs says, voice gruff. "Since I'm betting you made sure there was no way you could move back into your place."
"There's a waiting list at my place. I'm surprised it's still empty."
"The table's still there."
Tony glances at Gibbs, the flush slowly fading from my face. "We're gonna need to pick that up."
"You'd better believe it."
Silence settles in the car for a few minutes. Ziva rattles around in one of the snack bags. Gibbs leans back in his seat, watching traffic out the window. McGee clears his throat.
"Where's your stuff, Tony?" he asks. "Abby and I checked every storage facility within fifty miles, and we couldn't find your name anywhere."
"The cousin who shampooed the carpets, her business also includes moving services and storage."
"Abby said it was just a carpet-cleaning business."
"It is in the D.C. area. On Long Island, it's all three."
McGee leans back in his seat to think it over. "Something like that you'd have to plan, wouldn't you? Even with family connections, to get lost as quickly as you did, it takes pre-planning."
Tony scoffs. "Oh, Probie, when will you learn that I'm just that good?"
"But you're not."
Tony's shoulders tense. "I've had some practice," he says in the serious tone that always makes McGee look scared. "I'm as good as I say I am."
McGee gapes. Ziva leans over and closes his mouth. McGee shakes off her hand and leans forward so that his head pokes between the front seats. "Get out of practice," he barks in a fair imitation of Tony's own command voice, and then he throws himself back against his own seat.
Gibbs watches Tony flex his hands on the steering wheel. "I'll take it under advisement, Probie," Tony says, then clears his throat hard, reaches over and flicks on the radio.
*
Ducky calls as Tony takes the first exit towards Quantico. "I'm working late waiting for a toxicology on a young solider dead from suspicious circumstances, and I just received the most interesting e-mail from Assistant Director Vance."
"Give me the broad strokes, Duck."
"You're welcome back on the premises, and it appears that Director Sheppard is under investigation for misuse of NCIS resources."
"Good to know, Duck."
"Have a pleasant evening, Jethro."
"Good night, Duck." Gibbs closes his phone. "I'm allowed back on the premises," he says.
"Which leads to the logical conclusion that you will soon be reinstated," Ziva replies. "Yes?"
"Yeah. Sounds like."
"Good."
They drive the rest of the way in silence, Tony getting out of the SUV and walking into the rental office before the others can get their seatbelts undone. "I'll get the bill," he mumbles as he hurries away.
"Gibbs?" Ziva asks.
"Leave him alone," Gibbs orders. "He's had a rough few days."
"We all have," McGee grouses, but he stays put, leaning against the SUV and rubbing a hand over his face.
But you've had family before, Gibbs thinks. Rather than say it, he waves McGee and Ziva away. "Go home. Get some rest. You may be needed at work in the morning." They both hesitate. "Now." Gibbs snaps, and Ziva and McGee walk away, walking side-by-side to the bus stop up the street.
Tony comes outside, a tired grin on his face. "All right, the fees on the car are taken care of, and I called a cab while I was inside. Do Ziva and McGee need…" He trails off when he realizes Ziva and McGee aren't with Gibbs. "Where'd they go?"
"I sent them to find their own way home." Gibbs reaches out, hooks his arm around Tony's neck, and reels him in close.
"Thanks," Tony mumbles, nose brushing Gibb's neck before he straightens up. "I don't think I could handle more of Probie's puppy dog looks. Or more of Ziva's non-murderous looks."
"Figured as much," Gibbs replies, and he keeps his arm around Tony's neck until they have to get into the cab.
The cab ride is silent, save Gibbs giving his address and the radio station the cabbie is playing low. Tony leans against him, warming the whole side of him, and Gibbs watches Tony's face as they pass under the street lights. I'm sorry, he wants to say. I didn't mean to leave. Tony turns and looks at him. He's not smiling, but there's contentment in the way he puts his hand on Gibbs' knee.
The cabbie drops them off, and Gibbs watches Tony tip him at least twice the fare. "That was unnecessary," he says.
"I'm feeling generous," Tony replies, and he digs into his pocket for his key ring, unlocking Gibbs' door before Gibbs can figure out if he even still has a house key.
"I've got the copy on here, too," Tony says as they step inside and Gibbs turns on the lights. He sorts through the keys. "You have your keys on you? You probably—" Tony raises his eyebrows when Gibbs snatches his keys from his hand and throws them across the room. "You're gonna have to help me find those."
"I'll get on that," Gibbs says and pulls at Tony's belt. "After sex."
"Hell, yes, after sex!" Tony strips off his shirt and toes off his shoes as Gibbs finishes with his belt. He slides his fingers down the buttons of Gibbs' shirt and starts unbuttoning it from the bottom. "Sheets should be clean," he says.
"Like I give a fuck, DiNozzo." Gibbs grabs Tony by the back of the neck, stumbles them towards the bedroom, lets Tony drag him into a hard, sucking kiss as they fall onto the bed.
"Fuck," Tony mutters when Gibbs bites his neck. He scratches his nails down Gibbs' back, slides his fingertips into the waistband of Gibbs' jeans, and trails his fingers around to the front, popping the button and lowering the zipper. "Missed you," He breathes into Gibbs' mouth as he yanks at Gibb's jeans.
"You, too," Gibbs replies, and he presses on Tony's biceps until he stops moving, then reaches down and opens and pulls off Tony's jeans and underwear before removing his own. He gives Tony's hip a smack, and Tony rotates on the bed so that he's laying the proper way. He grins and reaches out a hand.
"C'mere," Tony says, and then he's kissing Gibbs, soft and warm and just a little dangerous, with his teeth nipping on the corner of Gibbs' mouth. Tony arches against him, drapes a leg around Gibbs' hip and reels him in. He brings up his other leg and tightens his grip.
"We can't do much like this," Gibbs tells him as he cards a hand through Tony's hair and tilts his head to kiss him deeply.
"We can do enough." Tony proves his point by shifting his hips and pressing upward. His dick slides along the crease where Gibbs' left thigh meets his leg. Gibbs grunts and adjusts himself in the grip of Tony's legs.
"Ease up a little," Gibbs growls.
"Don't want to."
Gibbs presses his teeth into Tony's shoulder, grins when Tony yelps. Tony's legs loosen enough for Gibbs to get a hand between them, wrap it around both their dicks. Tony's eyes roll back when Gibbs presses just below the head of his dick. "That's it," Gibbs mutters. "You like that." Tony gives him a shaky smile, teeth clenching when Gibbs presses his weight down. "Too much?"
"N-n-no." Tony stutters. "Just…More." He groans when Gibbs squeezes his hand on the down stroke. "Yes," Tony whispers. Gibbs lifts his torso at the same time as he shifts the weight off his free arm to his hips. "Fuck," Tony moans. His legs tighten again, and he pulls at Gibbs' shoulders. "Come here," he begs. "Come here."
Gibbs takes his hand off of their dicks, plants it beside Tony's head, let's Tony pull him down so that they're cheek-to-cheek, Tony's ragged breath echoing in his ear.
"Gibbs," Tony breathes into his ear. "God, Gibbs."
Gibbs can't say anything. He's gritting his teeth, fingers gripping the sheet on either side of Tony's head. He thrusts, the combined sweat from their bodies making him lose purchase and shift the weight to his arms to keep from crushing Tony under his weight. "Tony," he gets out.
Tony rears up, chin nearly colliding with Gibbs' jaw as he takes a hard kiss, tongue wild in Gibbs' mouth, teeth scraping Gibbs' cheek as Tony gets knocked off course because Gibbs is pressing down harder, making his strokes shorter, grunting with the effort as he drops his weight to his hips, uncurls one hand from the sheets, and rakes his fingernails down Tony's side.
"Yes," Tony hisses. "Fucking yes." He pulls Gibbs in tighter still, arms clenching around his shoulders, hips coming off the bed. "C'mon," Tony growls. "C'mon."
Gibbs can't stop himself from coming, the raw edge in Tony's voice the final necessity for Gibbs' orgasm to take over. He lies limp against Tony, his breathing evening out as Tony squirms underneath him and pokes him in the side.
"Some of us have stamina," he says, and he looks completely unrepentant when Gibbs tries to glare at him. "Little help?"
Gibbs grunts and slides off Tony, settling on his side. "Come here," he says, and Tony curls close to him, sliding one of his legs through Gibbs'. He closes his eyes when Gibbs curls a hand around him. "Easy," Tony murmurs, and Gibbs loosens his hold, watching Tony close his eyes and smile, watches a shudder work its way from Tony's legs to his hips to his stomach and his chest. When it gets up to his neck, Gibbs leans in, bites softly, noses behind Tony's ear. "Missed you," he whispers, so quiet he's not sure Tony can hear him over his own panting.
It's another two minutes, Tony's breathing getting more erratic, his groans getting deeper, and then he's coming, eyes screwed shut and hands tight on Gibbs' shoulders. Gibbs watches him come down, feels the phantom pressure of Tony's hands as he loosens his hold on Gibbs' shoulders.
"I missed you, too." Tony says at a normal speaking level.
Gibbs wrestles the blanket out from under both of them, pulls it to cover them up to the waist as he puts a hand on Tony's arm to keep him from shifting away. "C'mere," he says, and Tony slides over, lines up against Gibbs' side, and hooks an arm around Gibbs' waist.
"'Night," Tony mumbles, and he's asleep in another minute, the arm around Gibbs' waist going slack and becoming heavy. If Gibbs breathes too deeply in the night, there's a good chance it'll wake Tony up.
"'Night," Gibbs says to the ceiling, and he closes his eyes.
*
Gibbs comes awake to the smells of coffee and bacon. He slips on his boxers from the day before, digs his cell out of his pants pocket, and walks into the kitchen. "Since when do you get out of bed before me?"
Tony glances over his shoulder, a metal bowl tucked into the crook of his elbow, a whisk in his other hand. "Team supervisors don't get to wander in late," he replies. "Figured that out after I showed up one morning, and McGee and Ziva were playing paper football because I hadn't assigned them anything to keep them busy."
"Yeah," Gibbs says with a grin, "they do that." He looks over Tony's shoulder to the countertop. There are bits of onion on the cutting board, a paper bag from the local grocery store has eggshells on the edge. The coffee pot is filled to the top. "You kept everything here? Even the kitchen stuff?"
"Not the food. I ran out for that." Tony says, concentrating on whisking the eggs. "I'm a sap," he adds at Gibbs' raised eyebrows. "Let's leave it at that."
Gibbs wraps an arm around Tony's waist, presses against his back and watches him pour the eggs into a skillet. "I—"
"Apologies make you look weak," Tony interrupts. "And if you actually give one, your jaw will clench shut for a week."
"Tony—"
"You're a bastard," Tony says, and there's affection in his tone, "and I know this. Don't try to make amends you don't need to make."
"I left."
"And I'm okay with that." Tony pokes at the eggs with a fork. "Because the next time you do it, I'm shooting out your knees." Tony says it playfully, but there's a promise in his undertone. He might not shoot him, Gibbs thinks, but he'll let Gibbs go and not take him back. Gibbs is certain he'd rather give up his knees.
"Okay," Gibbs says, and he steps away from Tony to get plates from the cupboard.
Three-quarters of the way through his half of the omlet, Gibbs' phone rings. He answers it as he smacks Tony's hand away from his plate with his fork. "Gibbs."
"Agent Gibbs, this is acting Director Vance."
"What can I do for you, Director?" Gibbs asks. At his question, Tony stops trying to steal bites of his omlet. The hand not holding his fork curls into a fist. Gibbs pokes at it with his fork, and Tony opens his hand again.
"I've just been informed by the SecNav that if I wish, I can have you and Agent DiNozzo as full-time field agents."
"And?" Gibbs prompts.
"How's Thursday work for you? I'd give you the week, but I'm two agents short since you two aren't in rotation, and David and McGee are out for the week on recommended leave."
"Thursday," Gibbs repeats. He raises his eyebrows at Tony. Tony nods. "Thursday's fine."
"Good. Now, can you tell me the best way to get in touch with Agent DiNozzo? His phone's off."
"We're grabbing breakfast. I'll relay the information."
"Appreciate it. Have a good day, Agent Gibbs. I'll see you Thursday."
"Yes, Sir." Gibbs cuts the call and points a finger at DiNozzo. "Your phone's still of."
"Shit." Tony stands up and walks to the bedroom. Gibbs listens to him toss around clothes. After a moment of silence, the tone of Tony's phone turning on carries down the hall. "I have twenty-one missed calls," Tony calls down the hall.
"Most of them are probably Abby," Gibbs replies.
Tony walks back into the room, phone in one hand. "Six," he says. "Three on Saturday. Two on Sunday. One on Monday. McGee and Ziva both called six times, and Ducky called twice. One is from Vance, and two are from Madame Director." Tony pulls a face. "From Friday. She left a message on the second one."
Gibbs stands up and walks over to Tony. Taking the phone, he presses buttons until the voicemail activates. "Delete them," he orders.
Tony presses the zero until the phone beeps. "All gone." He smiles. "Do I get a cookie?"
"You get the rest of my omlet," Gibbs tells him. "Eat quick. Vance wants us back in the office on Thursday, and we need to get organized."
Tony groans as he steals Gibbs' leftovers from his plate. "I need to find a place," he says.
"No you don't."
Tony looks up, a piece of egg dangling from the corner of his mouth. "What?"
Gibbs wants to repeat it, but he can't. "You heard me, DiNozzo. Offer's on the table."
"The table's still at my old place," Tony replies, and there's mischief and happiness in his eyes.
Gibbs grins. He leans across the table and wipes the egg from the corner of Tony's mouth. "Five minutes and we're out the door. We're wasting daylight."
"On it." Tony shovels down the rest of his breakfast, gulps his coffee in three quick swallows. He crowds Gibbs back against the kitchen wall and pecks him on the mouth. "Give me two minutes to put on my pants."
Gibbs reels him in before he can do more than back away a step. He looks at Tony from a distance of six inches. Say it, he thinks, but he knows he won't. He grips Tony's wrist instead, strokes the tendon below his thumb.
"You too, Gibbs," Tony says, and he lets his hand trail behind him as he pulls away. "Two minutes," he says, and Gibbs nods in agreement, following Tony down the hall so he can get dressed himself, and thinking, as they get into the car and start the trip across town, where, exactly, the table can go. And where to build the shelves for Tony's DVDs.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2010-07-03 02:03 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-03 11:39 pm (UTC)Fantastic fic. Please tell me you're planning to write more NCIS fic?
no subject
on 2010-07-03 11:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Posted byno subject
on 2010-07-04 12:13 am (UTC)And I agree with you, I loved the Director Jen Shepard we were shown in "Chimera". If only that had been the woman written during the entire time of Jen's stay.
no subject
on 2010-07-04 01:44 am (UTC)I want to know who was in charge of writing her. Because I want to know who to smack for such inconsistent characterization. I don't even have a problem with her having a thing with Gibbs in the past, but they used in ENTIRELY too much when they could have made her interesting in a hundred different ways.
no subject
on 2010-07-04 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 07:35 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 08:35 am (UTC)I loved McGee standing up to the Madame Director! :)
And Tony leaving hints behind for Gibbs and co to find him!
So glad that Gibbs found a way to let Tony know that he loves him without saying the words - actions speaks more than words, sometimes!
no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 09:58 am (UTC)Thanks so much for making my day!
no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-04 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-05 03:54 am (UTC)This fic is made of win!
no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:37 pm (UTC)Love In The Aftermath
on 2010-07-05 04:21 am (UTC)Delighted that Jenny was stopped before she managed to do serious damage to both Tony and Jeanne. I'm not a fan of the Jeanne character, but she had never done anything illegal or wrong, and Jenny had no justification for siccing a federal agent on her to essentially ruin her life.
I like your version of SECNAV much better than the one we've seen on screen. I really, really don't like Davenport, so I'm going to pretend that SECNAV is the one from JAG and him I liked.
This whole story was a treat, and I loved it. Thank you very much for sharing.
n_a
Re: Love In The Aftermath
on 2010-07-06 10:50 pm (UTC)I'm so happy you enjoyed it so much! Thank you for the wonderfully detailed feedback!
Love In The Aftermath - addendum
on 2010-07-05 04:25 am (UTC)Loved that you showed Jimmy helping in the search for Tony, and that Gibbs was aware of his contribution and made sure that Tony knew about it, as well.
Ziva's punch to Tony's arm, McGee's headslap to Tony, Ziva's to Gibbs, all of it was perfectly in character and exactly how they would have acted.
Forgot to mention how perfect the two second hesitations were when Ziva misspoke... you nailed it.
Love this story. It is definitely a keeper.
n_a
Re: Love In The Aftermath - addendum
on 2010-07-06 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-05 03:41 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-05 07:21 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 07:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-06 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-22 02:48 pm (UTC)I loved this story.
This was perfect, they weren't ooc and I liked how Tony didn't give in right after he saw Gibbs and how you didn't make them have sex the second Gibbs found Tony.
And I couldn't stop laughing at Gibbs mustache, that thing was horrible.
Thank you for sharing
no subject
on 2010-07-23 04:26 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-26 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-28 04:57 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-07-28 03:37 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing, C
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on 2010-07-30 03:52 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-09-21 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-09-26 05:16 am (UTC)