Goin' On a Jetplane
T for language
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters. Shut up and let me write!
AN: For Taylor Gibbs' birthday! She requested Tony and Gibbs on a plane... This is what happened.
*~.~*
"We're goin' to Vegas, Boss!" Tony said, for probably the fifth time just since they'd boarded the plane. He was ridiculously excited, though Gibbs couldn't figure out why. His SFA had mentioned going there in the past, at some point in his many ramblings over the years. But he hadn't mentioned it at all, since he'd started his childlike excitement of going to Vegas, now.
"Yeah, I know that, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, trying to adjust his seat more comfortably; glad there wasn't anyone in the seat on his other side.
"This is gonna be great," Tony continued, glancing out the window at the landscape below. "We're gonna have fun. Just you wait."
"We're going to work, Tony," Gibbs reminded him. "Remember?"
"Well, yeah," he looked at him with a half-smile. "But it's not like we'll be workin' twenty-four seven. And they booked us in one room, so unless you plan on spending all your free time listening to me talk, I suggest you come out with me."
"If you go out, I'm not hearin' you talk, am I," he raised a brow, a smile smirk forming on his lips.
"If you don't come out with me, I'm gonna stay in the room. You don't want that to happen, do you?" Tony was playing the high cards.
Now, usually, Tony saved the 'threats' for major things, like getting out of something he really didn't want to do. Not just not wanting, but seriously something that would make him ridiculously uncomfortable, but didn't want to explain why, and so, used threats to try and get himself out of it.
This situation didn't seem to warrant such a move.
Or did it? Gibbs narrowed his eyes, studying Tony's features as he looked back at him for an answer.
Tony inwardly panicked, when Gibbs started looking at him that way. Could he tell what was on his mind? Tony still wasn't completely convinced that Gibbs didn't have some form of telepathy. He switched tactics.
"I still can't believe you picked me," Tony said, looking away, and out the window again.
"What?" Gibbs was thrown off by the statement.
"I mean, you could've picked McGee. But you picked me. You've been giving McGee all the cool stuff, lately, Boss. I was sure you weren't gonna pick me for this. But you did," he glanced back at him for a moment, then back out the window. Tony felt his blood pressure rise a bit. "Shit shit shit...that isn't helping! That's just giving him another clue, you moron!"
Gibbs didn't miss the clenching of Tony's jaw, from his profile view of him. "I haven't been giving him all the 'cool stuff'," Gibbs denied.
"You gave him and Dorneget that detail with the supermodel spy chick," he countered.
"There was a reason for that. You're still pissed about that?" Gibbs cocked his head.
"No. No, not really. I get why you did it that way."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. I mean, I guess..."
"You don't."
"Yeah, I do," Tony looked at him. "I get why you sent Dorneget. And you sent McGee, because apparently he's better at focusing on training a newbie, than I am."
"I sent McGee, because I said his name first," Gibbs countered. "Couldn't send you and McGee. There'd have been nothing to stop either of you from being distracted." Tony was silent for a moment, then looked down at his lap as he thought that over. "I saw how pissed you were, afterward," Gibbs continued. "So yeah, I picked you for this. Thought it might make up for it, or something."
"Oh," Tony replied, softly. He made a small glance up at Gibbs, "Sorry, Boss." He looked back out the window.
"Damn," Gibbs thought, as he saw the tension in the younger man's jaw again. "He's not pissed I didn't pick him for the detail. He's upset I picked him for this." But what did that mean? Why would Tony be upset to be going to Vegas? Especially since he seemed so excited to be going. What the hell was he missing, in all of this?
"So," Tony spoke, slowly shifting so that he was facing forward, and played with the drink on the tray in front of him. "Last time I stayed in Vegas, I was just a kid." He let out a small laugh, which Gibbs knew to be nerves showing through. "My father had some business there; no where to leave me in the mean time. So he had to take me."
"Son of a bitch..." The excitement was a facade; a cover up.
"This hotel they've booked us in?" he glanced at Gibbs, "Turns out it's the same one we stayed in, all those years ago. Wonder if it looks the same," he looked back down to his drink.
"Damn it to hell," Gibbs thought. He got it, now. That story Tony had told them, about his father leaving him alone in a hotel room for two days; this must have been it. "Well, Vegas isn't a place for kids," he said.
"It is now," Tony told him. "They've got attractions for kids, now. Ya know, stuff that's supposed to be for kids. Kids could do stuff back then, too. Just...ya know, not...stuff they were supposed to."
Uncertain as to the depth of what that could mean, Gibbs was determined to change what Vegas meant for Tony. Not that he much cared about the reputation of the place, but he cared that Tony harbored unpleasant memories. Unpleasant enough for him to be nervous to be going back there, and actually talk about it to him. Vague as it might be, it was still talking, and that spoke volumes.
Gibbs picked up his drink, took a long sip, and set it back down, but still held onto the glass. "Fine," he told him. "I'll go out with you."
Tony looked over at him, eyes brightening along with the rest of his face, and his entire stature, at that. "Really?"
Gibbs couldn't help but smile, "Yeah, really. Why not?"
"You're the best, Boss," he smiled.
"Yeah yeah... Put it on a coffee mug, and I'll shoot ya."
~Fin~
AN: TG, I have no idea if this is anything like what you wanted... So let me know if I need to add a chapter to this, where things dramatically change...and you know what that means. HAHA! It's a long flight. ;)
Happy Birthday! hugs