A/N: This was originally written in response to a prompt on the lj comment-fic community. The request was for NCIS, Gibbs/Tony, firelight. Thanks to scripps for the inspiration.


It's Friday night, and the mood in Gibbs' living room is soft and content. It's been a long week; their last case had taken them nearly two weeks, and involved an unfortunate number of overnight stays at the office. Both Tony and Gibbs have finished their steaks, and the coffee table is littered with empty bottles of some microbrew or the other. Tony's draped himself along the length of the old couch, eyes closed as he leans his head back on the armrest, his socked feet across Gibbs' lap.

The things people say about firelight being kind to your face, of smoothing the lines and gentling the features, these are all lies, Gibbs thinks, as he looks at his lover. The flickering light of the dwindling flames casts distorted shadows upon Tony's face, and he looks older, drawn and tired.

This is all wrong. Gibbs is the elder by a good margin, and while he's far from being ready to retire, he won't lie to himself either about how he's started to feel age creeping up on him. He knows that his knees can't take as much of a beating as they used to, and that old shoulder wound from Ari has taken to throbbing with the rain.

But Tony's still full of energy, and always wears the face of a clown, pulls on his bright joie de vivre like a cloak. It's only times like these, at home and alone, that Tony lets it melt away. Gibbs thinks that the fire mellows him out, burns away the masks, perhaps. It makes something tug tight in his chest. Gibbs is far from the most demonstrative of men, but he wants to reach over and stroke Tony's brow. He settles for rubbing small circles into his ankle bone with his thumb.

"You know, for a functional mute, sometimes you think awfully loud," Tony remarks, brow furrowed, but eyes still closed. "Stop it."

Gibbs doesn't dignify that with a response. He merely gives the ankle he's holding a light smack in lieu of a headslap, and prepares to move it out of the way so he can go stoke the fire. He's stopped as the foot pushes back, and Tony's hand reaches down towards him.

"Just let it die, Gibbs. Come here, I want you."

Gibbs allows himself to be pulled down so he's lying half on top of Tony, half squashed into the couch cushions. "What do you want, DiNozzo?"

Tony hesitates for just a moment. Usually by now, Gibbs will have headed down to the boat, and Tony will have settled down for some classic film. But while Gibbs' voice was rough, his hand is warm on Tony's chest, and anyway they can both sense that something's a bit different tonight. Tony opens his eyes, but he has to squint to see Gibbs in the faint light of the remaining embers. "Stay up here for a bit?"

Gibbs peers down at him, sees the open vulnerability in Tony's face that the other man shows so rarely. Irrationally, he hates the firelight just a little bit, for bringing it out. Gibbs nods, and Tony gives a quirky half-smile and closes his eyes.

Gibbs presses a soft kiss to his temple, and watches Tony doze until the fire dies out completely.