Thanks, Boss
By Simply Shelby
There was something about seeing the kid behind bars that made Gibbs's stomach curl, sickeningly. Pushing the pizza box between the bars, like mail in a slot, Gibbs didn't say a word. Tony, on the other hand, jumped up and muttered something supposedly humorous, taking the pizza box and tossing it on the sorry excuse for a cot.
"Save that for later."
The fact that he hadn't immediately shoved the whole box into his mouth served to show that there was some worry behind his nonchalant act. His shoulders were a little too tense and his eyes were a little too bright. Gibbs wished there was something he could say to make everything better. But, honestly, there wasn't anything he could say that DiNozzo wouldn't scoff at.
"I'm a federal prosecutor's dream."
Gibbs didn't say a word and settled himself for a long, painful monologue. Better for the man to let it all out without interruptions.
"You tend to date a lot, don't you, Mr. DiNozzo?"
This was true, Gibbs knew, but sometimes wildly exaggerated to keep up the playboy façade. Sometimes, the stories Tony came in to the office with didn't have a speck of truth to them. Something he kept in mind everytime Tony started his storytelling.
"So you're saying my intimacy issues stem from my mother? Who dressed me as a sailor until I was ten years old!"
Gibbs blinked at the second part. He hadn't known that. He'd known Tony'd had a poor excuse for a childhood, known he'd gone through nannies like clean underwear, known his father forgot he even had a son at times... But, Tony almost never spoke of his mother and Gibbs filed those words away in his memory for later. And, perhaps, for future confrontations. It was ironic that Tony had ended up at NCIS. Were sailor suits a legitimate foreshadowing tool?
"Because I'm angry and I'm immature and I like control!"
The kid's eyes were wild with fear. Yes, Tony could be angry sometimes, but his life didn't revolve around his anger. He could shove his anger away until he had the time and the ability to confront it. That was something Gibbs had always admired about the young man; a part of why Gibbs had hired him in the first place. And it was true that Tony could be annoyingly immature at times, but he could always place it to the side if need be. Control, Gibbs wasn't quite sure about that. But, he knew Tony would never murder a woman just to exert it.
"I ripped a glove at the scene. It seems a little sloppy for a federal agent who investigates crime scenes, but those are the breaks when you're a homicidal maniac dumping butchered women's remains out in the woods in the middle of the night! Right?"
Gibbs doubted Tony had ripped a glove at a scene since before he was hired to NCIS. And he wasn't a homicidal maniac. He was a damn good agent, one of the best Gibbs had had the honour of working with and he was—Gibbs stopped himself. He wasn't going to go there. Not now. Gibbs's stomach clenched and bile rose to his throat. As much as Tony might need him here, he needed to get Tony out of this mess before his senior field agent went mad.
"I'm not getting out of this one am I, Boss?"
The kid lifted his head from his hands and looked up hopefully, pleading. Gibbs motioned for him to come and Tony stood and walked over, like walking off a plank, rather than walking into an embrace. Gibbs smacked the back of his head, not too hard, but hard enough for a wake-up call with a touch of fondness. Just enough for Tony to keep hanging on. Unspoken words tumbled and rushed. "I'll get you out."
"Thanks, Boss."