A.N. Wrote this ages ago, before I even knew what fan fiction was. Decided to post it up just for the hell of it. Not sure if there will be more.
1.
As his subordinates came into the bullpen Gibbs glanced up only briefly.
Ziva, with McGee in tow and-no DiNozzo, he noted. On most days, Tony was the first to arrive to the bullpen, even before Gibbs himself, unbeknown to David and McGee. But on rare days, he either came in with the other two or even more rare, a few minutes later than the two. Gibbs wondered fondly what extravagant excuse his senior field agent would come up with this time; he would never admit it out loud, but Tonys' ramblings always had the ability to amuse him.
"Where is Tony? He is usually here before us, yes?" Ziva, ever the observer, inquired to the rest of the team.
McGee half-shrugged as he turned on his computer, glad he'd gotten to HQ before DiNozzo for once, so he wouldn't have to worry about about any pranks the older man might have pulled on him. "I don't know, but I can't wait to hear what story he's got for us this time." He half smirked; he pretended to be annoyed by the senior agents stories a lot of the time, but was always entertained by them and on bad days, even looked forward to the boyish grin Tony couldn't seem to keep off his face when spinning one of his elaborate tales.
Ziva nodded her agreement, hiding her own smile, and the two agents quickly got to work, noticing their Boss eyeing them with that "Well, what're ya' waiting for?" look.
Several miles away, in front of his small apartment in the inner city, Anthony DiNozzo stood next to a few of his neighbors, most of them in their pajamas, a couple of them in their work clothes, whom, like Tony, had been getting ready to head off to their jobs that morning.
Red-orange, angry flames engulfed the only rent-controlled apartment Anthony had been able to find in this city. He thanked God his next door neighbors hadn't been home-they were the sweetest elderly couple, and had left the house at 6am that morning for some harmless tests at their local clinic. Their home is where the fire had originated apparently, a leak of some sort, one of the firemen had told him a couple of other neighbors who'd inquired as to the cause.
Almost the entire building was up in flames. Seeing as how his home was right next to the fires' origin, it was most likely in ashes at this point, Tony figured. He held onto his messenger bag, it was the one thing in his home that had probably survived the fire, this, due to the fact that he'd risked his life to retrieve it from its hiding place.
He'd let the paramedics check him out, avoiding to mention his brush with the plague, of course; that tended to bring forth one of two responses: A.) A chuckle and a roll of the eyes, or B.) A trip to the hospital for further observation, speculation, and unnecessary blood tests, and he didn't want to deal with either one.
Mike, the paramedic who'd worked on him had given him a breathing mask, telling him that he would be fine, except he'd inhaled a lot of smoke and a half hour with the mask would fix him up fine. Tony couldn't say he disagreed, his chest felt as tight as a wound spring. After twenty minutes, he was breathing a lot easier.
Thankfully, there hadn't been any casualties, and other than a few people near the origin of the fire, whom had needed the masks to help them breath, no one had been seriously injured. Tony sighed, where on Earth was he supposed to go now? "I wonder if Gibbs will let me stay with him again..." He thought out loud, his mind wandering as he stared at the distance at the ever growing fire.
Looking at it, smelling the fumes, it made him want to be sick; it all brought back terrifying, alarming memories he'd tried so so hard to repress. Closing his eyes shut tight, he repeated a mantra in his head 'It's over, it's over, it's over, it's over, it's-oh God'. Eyes popping open wide, he scrambled for his car keys in a panic, checking every pocket, until his fingers felt the metal ring of his keys. He took off the mask, and ran off, not paying attention to Mike the paramedic as he ran to his car, several feet away and drove off in a style that resembled a combination of Gibbs and Zivas driving skills.
He was so late...
Back at the bullpen, Gibbs was having his third cup of coffee that morning. It had been a almost forty five minutes since his two subordinates had arrived to work, and still, Tony was a no-show. He had damn well have a good excuse for his lateness-he'd never been this late! He'd had Ziva call after the first twenty minutes and it had gone straight to voice mail. After the forty minute mark, Gibbs had called Tony himself and after being sent straight to voice mail again, he'd left a loud, harsh message, which had left even Ziva ducking at her desk, and McGee nearly taking cover.
He'd give him five more minutes before-DING!
All three heads turned to the elevator, where a slightly disheveled Anthony DiNozzo stood, wearing slacks and a white button up dress shirt, with a large, eccentric looking messenger bag none of the team had ever seen him sport, over his shoulder. Seeing Gibbs death glare lock in place, Tony quickly opened his mouth to explain, "Boss-" only to be cut off by his superior, who was noticeably more pissed than Tony had seen him since even the Ari fiasco.
"You are almost an entire hour late, you don't call in to say you'll be late, you don't even answer your God damn phone! There is no valid incident you could possibly regal us with DiNozzo, that would excuse your insubordinate lateness!" The entire office, not just their small bullpen, but other teams as well, were left silent in the midst of Gibbs' outburst-he was the loudest and most stern they'd heard him in a very long time. All eyes were on the leader and his second in command.
"Boss, listen, I can explain, what happened is-"
"NO!" Gibbs interrupted a second time, surprising both the team and himself; usually he'd at least hear one of his team members excuses before deciding whether it was fit enough or not, but he was so pissed! "What's the explanation this time, DiNozzo?" He sneered, "Another bimbo keep you in bed? I'm so dissapointed in y-" He stopped himself short when he saw the look of unmistakable hurt cross very plainly on his senior field agents face.
"It wasn't..." Tony paused, trying to gain his composure, "It wasn't that, Gibbs; I'd never do that. I thought you knew that by now." the painful sincerity in in his voice made Gibbs heart ache-along with practically everyone elses' in the bullpen who were blalantly listening to the public display.
Gibbs took a deep breath, still mad, but not as much, as it was slowly dawning to him that a lot of that anger had actually just been worry for his second in command, his friend... "Well, what happened?" He asked, voice still stern, but less biting than it had been.
Tony shuffled his feet, aware that everyone in the bullpen at this point was ease dropping. "My apartment kind of...caught on fire this morning..." he grimaced.
Needless to say, Gibbs felt like a complete bastard; he'd certainly lived up to his second b for Bastard Legend, and it was still early morning yet. "Damn it DiNozzo." he sighed, "Are you alright?" Gibbs got closer to Tony, inspecting him, knowing the younger man would say he was fine, even with third degree burns scarring his body. He didn't notice how close he'd gotten to his agent, till he realized the air tickling his nose was DiNozzos breath.
Tony was all too aware of how close his Boss was, as he let the older man pat him down for any injuries. "I'm fine Boss, had a paramedic look me over-they had me wear the mask, to stabilize my breathing, but they gave me a clean bill of health and let me go after a half hour." He explained, "On that note, my place and stuff are pretty much ashes at this point." He grinned, as if losing all your worldly possessions was something to grin at, and continued, "I was wondering if you'd let me bum on your couch for a couple of days?" his eyes were hopeful and big and after yelling at the man, who'd just lost everything, how could Gibbs possibly say no?
"Of course, DiNozzo, where else?" Gibbs said, not thinking about his words, and Tony smiled genuinely at the way Gibbs made it sound, like there was no other place but his for Tony to crash.
And like that, the entire bullpen had witnessed hostility turn into a sleepover at Gibbs house within minutes. While the rest of the bullpen released sighs of relief, Ziva and McGee threw Tony, who had later brushed their questions about the fire away and digressed, worried looks from their desks all day.
"Hey Gibbs, want to watch a movie?" Tony asked his Boss as soon as they got to his home, which, as usual, was unlocked.
"Nope." Gibbs replied almost immediately, "Much rather sand the boat."
Tony's face dropped for a second, before he forced a strained smile, "Right."
"With you DiNozzo-it's been a while." He explained, almost smirking at the fact that he still had to explain something so trivial to the man. Not to mention he was sure all of Tonys' films had been destroyed by the fire, which was something likely Tony didn't realize yet-in fact, Gibbs didn't think Tony had come to terms with everything as of yet, acting very blase about the whole thing, almost as if it hadn't happened. Gibbs could only thank God the younger man hadn't been hurt, or worse, killed in the fire.
Tony's face lit up instantly; he loved watching Gibbs work on the boat. It smelled solely of his Boss in the basement, and he absolutely loved being down there, surrounded by just Gibbs, he was relaxed and comfortable, which was not a luxury he often allowed himself.
As he mostly watched Gibbs do his thing, Tony wondered, not for the millionth time, in the recent months, if he should tell at least Gibbs, if not his whole team, Abby and Ducky included, the truth about himself.
Would they still trust him? Would they ever look at him the same again? He doubted it. They might feel betrayed, they might call mutiny, even. Tony shook his head, reminded himself this wasn't a pirate movie. He couldn't tell them; it would be breaking the law even hinting at it, really, so outright telling them would be downright unlawful. But, could he really continue living such a farce? He didn't think Gibbs would ever forgive him. A tight ball settled at the pit of Tonys' stomach and something in his gut screamed 'Tell him!' but his head clearly said 'No!' and all the while his heart fumbled in between the two asking 'But what if he hates me?'
"Tony?"
"W-wha'?" he stuttered in response, realizing Gibbs had been calling his name.
Gibbs let go of his sanding tool and walked over to his second in command, turning him around to look at him, his hand touching his face softly, "You okay?"
This close to his Boss, Tony could barely just move without having his body brush up against the other man. "Peachy, Boss. It's not everyday your house blows up into flames." He half-joked, smirking, playing it cool.
"I'm serious," Gibbs head slapped his subordinate, but even Tony could tell it was only a half-hearted swat. "Regardless, you can stay here long as you want, Tony." he offered solemnly.
'Say it!' his gut urged, 'Tell him you're actually-'
"Thanks Boss." He muttered, instead, swallowing hard.
They stood there, in the middle of Gibbs basement, like that; Gibbs palming Tonys cheek in his hand, the other barely gripping his shoulder, Tony's arms limp at his sides, his breathing a little uneven, being in such close proximity with the older man.
It seemed like with every passing minute they moved just an inch closer to one another, feet shuffling against the basements wooden surface, Gibbs realized belatedly that his hands were trembling in that way that could only be explained by that feeling an adolescent boy got before kissing his very first love-Jesus, he'd turned into a teenage boy.
Gibbs moved just a little bit closer, deliberately, achingly slow. Tony held his breathe, petrified in place, waiting.
RING! RING! RING!
"Shit." Gibbs and Tony both nearly bumped heads when Tonys' phone loudly alerted them they were not the only two people left in the world, the basement their sanctuary-although that's sure as hell how it'd felt, Gibbs thought, still dazed, as Tony scrambled for the replacement cell he'd gotten back at the office earlier that day, seeing as how his was nothing but melted plastic somewhere in his apartment.
"Very Special Agent DiNozzo speaking." he answered the operator, who always seemed to call him whenever the team had a case-because clearly Gibbs reputation proceeded him and nobody wanted to be at the end of the line if ever they happened to catch the man in one of his "moods". "Got it, yeah, thanks." If anyone ever happened to notice the fact that Tony usually forgot to write down notes on their cases, like locations and times and dates and names, but always recited the facts as they were, they never mentioned it.
"Case?"
"Double homicide, calling the team now." Tony informed his boss, both already headed up the stairs to pack and head out to the scene.
Tony had a pair of dark jeans and a faded gray t-shirt from the last time he'd stayed over Gibbs place, and decided that'd be appropriate enough for the workplace that he could pull it off and still look professional, with his slightly-too-big crimson hooded jacket. Grabbing his pack, which he was glad he'd left at the office the day before the fire, because had it been between his backpack and his messenger bag, there really was no competition.
Tony walked out of the guest room expecting to see his boss waiting impatiently downstairs for him, in the living room, only to hear a curse from Gibbs room.
Gibbs was dressed in his work clothes, his own bag packed, looking studiously for something in his closet of Navy-store-bought clothes.
"You left your windbreaker on the couch, Boss!" Tony called out knowingly, already halfway down the stairs.
Gibbs smirked, "What would I do without ya' DiNozzo?" he muttered to himself, all the while thinking what would he really do without the young man in his life? Most likely starve to death-every time they were on a difficult, long-dragging case, everyone on the team already knew Gibbs wouldn't sleep until it was solved, but what they didn't know was that he wouldn't eat either. How could he eat and sleep, knowing some murderous s.o.b was out there running amok, while a family grieved?
So he'd lose track of time and forget to eat and run himself ragged, and who'd be there, by his side, practically force-feeding him slices of pizza and deli sandwiches, and getting his coffees' just right so that sleeping wouldn't be an issue? Tony, of course. He thought matter-of-fact, wondering when that had happened, as he grabbed his wind-breaker on his way out of the house, a grinning Tony waiting for him by the car.
Tony got slammed hard against the red brick wall by their now number one suspect. Their 6 foot three inch, two hundred seventy-two pound suspect, with the ability to kill Ziva with a paper clip, sit on McGee and crush his clavicle, flip Kate over her own desk, and possibly maim Gibbs, all in one day, slammed him into the brick wall. Seriously, that stuff had practically been written in his file: Psycho Bad ass with a tendency to break bones and make small kids (and grown men) cry.
They'd arrived at the scene of the crime, to find two dead marines. As the team had set out to do their individual jobs, Tony had gotten the unfortunate task of digging through the large green dumps for evidence. Just as he'd been about to open the metal lid, a man had jumped out, pushed Tony out of the way, and fled the scene. Tony had been at his heels instantaneously.
Now, though, he wished he'd just let the son of a bitch go.