Grief
Tony stood before the mirror and gazed unseeingly at the counter before him. He held the edge in a vice grip, knowing that if he let go he would crumple. His strength and composure were flowing away, draining fast like lifeblood from an open wound.
Like Kate's blood, being drained from her lifeless body in autopsy.
His knuckles protested as they met the smooth surface before them with a resounding CRACK. His aching eyes peered at the minute damage done as he looked down once more. Bright, raw red stained the immaculate white.
All he could do was sigh. Kate could not be dead. He had to be dreaming. He jerked the faucet on, and hissed in pain as the scalding water soaked his hands. Tony scrubbed vigorously, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, the red had spread mockingly. All he has succeeded in doing was scrubbing his hands raw.
The red remained. Tony quaked, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Everything was finally flooding out of him, leaving him with his fear, his anguish, his anger, his realization.
Kate was gone.
His eyes sank shut, and he tried desperately to ignore the burning rush beneath flushed lids. He did not utter a single sound.
When he opened his eyes once more, Gibbs was standing at the door, gazing calmly at the bereft agent's reflection in the mirror. He threw his eyes downward hurriedly, and steeled his voice.
"He... hey Boss," he stuttered, his voice thick and low. He observed his knuckles, keen on the bruises already blooming there. "Just gathering my thoughts. Be out in a sec."
A soft click echoed around the light tiles, and Tony glanced up with a silent question. Gibbs still stood by the now-locked door. He couldn't hold the eye contact. The bruises recaptured his attention.
"Tony..."
Agent DiNozzo cringed at the gentle note in his boss's voice, and nearly jumped out of his skin at the feel of a cool, rough hand on his heck. His eyes delved deeper into the battered skin.
"Tony, look at me."
The hand on the back of his neck was soothing, the rough pad of the thumb rubbing circles, encouraging and begging him to lift his gaze. Tony hesitated, but slowly complied.
Their eyes met and locked. Gibbs pulled him closer, and murmured gently into his hair. Tony shivered as the warm breath washed across his skin.
"Let go, Tony. I know. It's okay."
Tony broke. Before he knew what was happening, he was whirling around and clinging to the solid man, the tears still aching beneath his lids. His arms clamped around the older man's waist, he breathed deeply. Warm, sweet-smelling soap. Simple. Clean. Gibbs.
One arm firmly around the younger man, supporting him, Gibbs stroked his head, trying to console him.
Suddenly, Tony thrust him away, eyes blazing.
"Stop."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised, but waited.
Tony continues, hissing through his teeth, "Stop being NICE."
The eyebrow remained raised.
"Stop trying to make me feel better. Stop stroking my hair and cooing like I'm some infant. Stop holding me, consoling me," Tony was on a roll, his heart thumping, pace galloping, face growing redder and redder by the second. The eyebrow shot even higher, and a smile quirked on Gibbs' lips.
"Skittish, Tony?"
Tony lashed out, jabbing Gibbs in the shoulder, and cringed as the sore knuckles connected with solid muscle. Gibbs stood his ground, unmoved by the outburst.
"Gibbs," he growled, cradling his hand to his chest, "is not nice. Gibbs is stark. Cynical. Sarcastic. I had had ENOUGH," his voice cracked pitifully, "of all this... I don't even know what the hell to call this! STRANGENESS. I need something to be normal." Tony gripped the front of his boss's jacket, pulling him close again. "Be Gibbs. Maybe then I'll forget."
His hands faltered, fluttering back between them, and heat flooded his face. The eyes slipped shut once more, and he sat back against the sink to rub his temples pensively.
A shiver ran the length of his body as a hand gripped his wrist.
"Like this, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked darkly, pulling the wrist closer, "Rough? Angry? Want me to smack you on the back of the head, just like old times?" He jerked his arm emphatically, and Tony flinched, his eyes wide and shocked. "Hell, DiNozzo, if I'm not as pissed and scared and confused as you," Tony shrank back as Gibbs pressed closer, menacing, "but maybe I need something now."
The atmosphere of the room shifted, prickling, electrified by their argument, and a sudden flash of arrogance split the air like a fork of lightning. Tony stopped cowering against the sink and pushed back, hard, standing chest to chest with his boss.
"Something, huh?" he drawled, looking the other man up and down, "You locked the door. McGee's down with Abs. You know there's no one else here. Maybe you want me to drop my pants and bend over the fucking sink? Maybe," his sardonic voice filled the room, "you want me, like men aren't supposed to want other men." Tony sneered, and Gibbs felt a thrill run through his entire body.
He kissed him hard, gripping the front of his shirt and roughly pulling him forward. He bit down, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Tony's fists balled up between them, he growled as a sharp pain lanced through his ravaged mouth.
They broke apart, panting, eyes still burning with anger. But something clicked, and their eyes quieted, but still burned with something quieter.
"Tony," Gibbs sighed, rubbing the back of his head resignedly, "I'm sorry. Take your time. I'm going out."
But, as he turned again, warm, moist fingers laced with his own. He looked down, patiently waiting for the younger man to speak.
"Don't go." It was no more than a whisper, a quavering husky plea, and Gibbs felt his lips turn up in a wry smile. The hand released him, only to wrap around his middle. "I need you."
They were chest to chest once more, but this was not a challenge, not a confrontation. They two men clung to each other, their breath quiet even as all their fears bubbled to the surface, and their needs became apparent.
"Make me forget," the murmur hung between them, soft and pathetic. Gibbs hesitated, then guided Tony into the farthest stall. Large, rough hands urged him on. He would give the man what he needed, no matter what the repercussions might be.
"You will," he promised in a quiet voice. He latched the stall door behind them.