A/N: So this was written for Tibbs Yuletide 2014, but really started with a conversation on twitter with MyShame7, and NCISVU, and gibbsandtonysbabe, and Cackymn, and Dinozzos Probie. I believe MyShame7's exact words were: "What happened the first time Tony stayed at Gibbs?" So I have to admit, I changed the timing from cannon a little but it isn't IMPOSSIBLE it happened like this, is it? First published as a Christmas story, I'm rechristening it here as "Stay", and I might even have another chapter or two percolating.

Love,

Squares

The first time they didn't kiss even.

Tony had been pressing them all—Cate, McGee, Gibbs— for a place to stay, bugged them all day long and in the end, case solved, as he was walking away, Gibbs reminded him that the door was unlocked.

"I know." And a wicked grin.

Tony wasn't a great guest. He didn't bring food with him, just a gym bag and a hanging bag with a suit, and he was later than Gibbs thought he would be, swinging the storm door wide on its hydraulic spring and letting it hit him in the ass and push him, fast, into the warm house.

Not that Gibbs minded. He wasn't a great host. He hadn't dusted in a long time and while the house was neat enough, it was dark and dated. He was in the basement when he heard Tony banging around, dropping his bag and stalking around the darkened living room turning on lights.

"Gibbs?"

Jethro took the stairs two at a time. "Here, Tony."

Tony swung around, startled but smiling. "Where'd you come from, Boss?"

Gibbs raised his eyebrows, ignored the question. "Snowing outside yet?"

"Not yet, but probably soon. Feels empty and cold. Like snow."

Again, Gibbs didn't comment but his lips twitched.

"I was thinking about ordering some food, Gibbs. You hungry?"

"I could eat."

They had sandwiches delivered, drank a couple beers each, watched part of a basketball game. Before the end of the second half, Tony's head tipped back against the couch and he slept, breathing heavy, not quite snoring. Now Gibbs did let himself smile. The room was still and dark, the game a rough buzz and hum. Tony's beard darkened his chin and the long line of his neck with its prominent adam's apple.

The game ended. Gibbs stood. Stood over Tony, shins pressed lightly against Tony's bony knees as he leaned over and down to clasp the younger man by the shoulder, shake him gently awake. Gibbs slept on the couch. Tony could take the guest room.

But as his palm cupped the warm shoulder, Tony's head snapped up in alarm and his hands reached out to punch, stretching open to hold instead at the last instant, recognition blooming.

In his surprise, his body jerked tight, knocking against Gibbs' legs, tripping him so the older man slipped and went down on one knee between Tony's legs. Gibbs' knee was pressed deep into the soft sofa and his warm thigh pressed, hard, into Tony's groin.

In an instant, Tony went from alarmed to turned on and his head dropped back again, but this time to bare his throat and breathe out a moan. Gibbs, still off balance, couldn't help but sway and press into the body beneath him, arms outstretched on either side of Tony's head, bracing himself, and then once their bodies pressed together, he was fighting for a different kind of control. Best he could do is pull his head slightly back and away...

Tony's hands quick slipped under Gibbs' shirt and the shock of warm, calloused flesh against Gibbs' sides, stroking along his belly was electric.

And that was it. Grunting and pushing, knocking each other's hands away to get closer to what he wanted, the two men eventually found themselves standing, jeans unzipped and gaping, cocks sticky with heat but rubbing, rubbing, bucking, pressing hard into and against each other, finally a little bit slippery from pre-come and even though it was rough and hurt a little for want of lubrication, Tony clutched and gripped Gibbs sides and pushed his nose sharp into Gibbs' collarbone and neck, smelling laundry detergent and man, and at the hard feel of cartilage against his chest, Gibbs' hand slid up into the back of Tony's hair, nails scraping hard along the scalp and Tony moaned and started rolling his hips, hard, fucking humping against Gibbs' cock like he was twenty and he would have been embarrassed except for a short shocked grunt from Gibbs that was all the warning he had before the other man's cock exploded, pumping bursts of slippery come against Tony's prick and jeans. Tony's gaze jerked downward and the smell and sight of Gibbs' coming on him, sent him over the edge too.

Cock sensitive and still throbbing a little, embarrassment and fear crawling over his skin, Tony let his body curl forward, his forehead resting on Gibbs' shoulder. The older man's hand was tight against Tony's neck, pressing him down and into his chest, like he was helping Tony hide.

Neither moved, neither wanted to confront the other.

"Bo— Gibbs?"

The other man's breath was a hot puff against his head. "Yeah."

"Did you...do you...uh...um, do you...is this…" Fell back on humor. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"

Gibbs' laugh was genuine, if brief. "No, DiNozzo. Not everyone. Just you. Apparently."

Tony smiled into Gibbs' shoulder. Straightened a little to get a more comfortable angle, slipped his hands around Gibbs' waist a bit. Not...quite...an embrace.

It was surprisingly comfortable, standing pitched gently against the other man, the tang of sweat and the soft burn of beard when they moved a little. Finally, Gibbs breathed in, deep. And Tony sighed, straightened further, looked at Gibbs in the dim light.

The older man's eyes were luminous despite the darkness and he had more control than Tony because not once did they slip down to Tony's lips, still parted for quick breaths. Tony couldn't help but lean a little toward Gibbs, wanting to taste—

"C'mon." Gibbs pulled off his shirt, cleaned them up a little. Pushed at Tony's back, urged him forward and up the stairs, turning off lights behind them.

He slept with Tony, a guest in his own house, and there was something almost festive about it, like staying in a hotel. Hotels were rare in his childhood, almost nonexistent, so no matter how many times he stayed in hotels now as an adult, it always felt a little exciting.

Tony didn't try to kiss him again, and Gibbs didn't force the issue of boxers, just climbed in next to the younger man and curled around him until Tony was asleep. They woke in the same position, Gibbs' cheek resting in the sweet space between Tony's broad shoulders.

And so...a tradition of sorts. Whenever Tony stayed at Gibbs, they slept together. The rest of the time...they didn't.

The repairs to his apartment were done by New Year's, but that first year Tony stayed through Christmas. Whenever Tony came to stay, there was that special feeling. They stayed in the guest room, and...well, it always felt a little bit like Christmas.

Tony was too tactile to allow Gibbs to avoid kissing him forever and the second night Tony stayed with Gibbs, the older man didn't dodge him but rather took control, pressing Tony back against the refrigerator. Tiny magnets and a slip of paper clattered to the floor. The two men managed to get up to the guest room but the lights stayed on downstairs all night.

Seven years later, they still were lovers when Tony stayed with Gibbs. Still hadn't talked about it. But things had changed lately, these last months, maybe this year. They had been through a lot together over those seven years, but it was September, and Tony insisting that they try to find Selim, the man who had killed Ziva, that had made some kind of difference, not only to the team, but to Gibbs and Tony.

Ziva had been alive, beaten and traumatized, malnourished and dehydrated, but alive when they found her in the desert. Tony was the wild card, the storyteller, and he and Gibbs and McGee had rescued her, killed Selim, and come home to applause and a renewed sense of fullness. Their team was whole again.

And yet, for the first time in seven years, Tony showed up at Gibbs' house with his gym bag for no obvious reason. No repairs needed on the apartment, no broken heater, no concussion or broken leg. No one being stalked or needing protection or watching. Tony was pretty beaten up; his time tied to Selim's chair was no cakewalk, but he was walking.

He walked right into Gibbs' front hallway and his bag dropped from numb fingers onto the floor. Gibbs came out of the kitchen, stood close and waited, his eyes on Tony's and the tilt of his chin an indication of his readiness to listen.

Tony didn't lunge, like he often did, as if afraid that if he wasn't quick to overwhelm Gibbs, the other man would push him away. And he didn't reach with his hands, as if distracting Gibbs was the only way he could slip under the other man's guard to taste his mouth.

His eyes glinted, dark and colorless in the dim hallway, and were steady on Gibbs' as he shifted slowly closer, bending only slightly to rub dry lips lightly against Gibbs'. Not even a kiss really, just a brush of his mouth, the warmth of breath. Gibbs shivered when Tony did it again.

And again. Gibbs was breathing Tony's air, shivered again at the fourth fifth pass of his soft mouth.

It was Gibbs whose hand came up to cup Tony's face and press harder into Tony's mouth. Whose mouth closed over the other man's, whose tongue slipped and slid against his own. Who pushed Tony down even as he unbuckled his pants, not quick enough for Tony, who was tugging at his jeans even as he did so. Who pulled Tony up the stairs only to push him down on the bed so that he could suck at the thin skin of Tony's inner thighs, lick a stripe up Tony's cock, and swallow him whole. Only then did Tony speak saying a word he had rarely uttered, and never during their time together as lovers.

"Jethro."

Tony stayed til Thursday, as if he had a reason to be there. And as if the reason to be there ceased to exist, as it always had before, when they left the house Thursday morning, he put his gym and suit bags into his car and drove to work for the first time that week separate from Gibbs.

That was mid-September. A month later, Tony came back again, for four days. And in mid-November, another four days.

It was now a week before Christmas, and Tony hadn't come back. He seemed the same at work, and Ziva was finally getting back to herself. The team had started going out after work on Fridays, Gibbs showing up occasionally.

Ziva invited them over for the last night of Hanukkah, December 19th. She handed them drinks and offered hors d'oeuvres and once they were all there, she turned off all the lights except for one in the kitchen. They stood around her dining room table as she took the single candle standing separate from the others in the menorah and lit it with a match.

Before using her candle to light the others, she stood for a moment, light illuminating her face, vulnerable, and sang the first words of the prayer, taking the time to meet each pair of eyes. Abby. Ducky. Palmer. Gibbs. Tony.

Baruch Atah Adonai...

Blessed are you lord God…

She bent slightly then, her eyes dropping down to watch what she was doing, lighting the rest of the candles. She smiled without looking up as she heard them join her in song. It would be interesting sometime to know how they all had come to know the prayer, the song, the words.

Amen.

When the candles were all lit, Ziva smiled wider, gave them each a chocolate coin from a small jar on the table, and turned on the lights. They ate and basked in the company of people they not only trusted, but liked. Ziva asked how they came to know the words to the Hanukkah prayer. Abby knew from a childhood spent exploring different traditions. McGee and Ducky had both had Jewish girlfriends, and Palmer's grandmother was Jewish. Gibbs just smiled and shook his head, glancing at Tony, who confessed that he had learned it yesterday off of Youtube.

They went home late, in different cabs than had brought them. And Gibbs had thought maybe Tony would ask to share his. Or more likely, just climbed in without asking.

But he didn't.

December 23rd and a Marine and his fiance were dead on the priceless Aubusson carpet in her beautiful brownstone. It wasn't until the team had spread out to search the house for clues that Tony started acting funny. Distracted.

Gibbs noticed but he didn't think anyone else did. Tony's attention just wasn't entirely with them. Alone with the younger man at one point, he tapped a light hand against the back of Tony's head, just a reminder, and Tony mumbled "Sorry, Boss," and finished his sketch.

The fiancee had money, obviously, and just as obviously was a musician. There was a whole room devoted to music, soundproofed as well as containing a full sized grand piano. Pictures of the woman with other musicians and various dignitaries adorned one wall, and another contained special shelves for holding music. Framed programs hung along the wall closest to the door, and a loose one was on the piano seat. Gibbs flipped it open with a gloved hand.

"She was going to play at a benefit concert for a local shelter tomorrow night. Not the kind of upscale shindig I would have expected." He looked up at Tony. "They're going to need to find another pianist."

When they were done and all dividing up into cars and vans, Tony said he wanted to look the place over one more time.

"Something bothering you, Tony?" Gibbs had long since trusted Tony's instincts and maybe that explained the distraction. Tony's sense of smell and hearing were even better than his own and often pointed them in the right direction.

"No. Just...before we turn the scene over, I just wanted to check it out one more time." Tony's smile was a little too bright, but Gibbs shrugged. "See you back at the Yard. There are LEO's here. You want McGee to stay?"

"Nah. I got it."

"Okay." Gibbs nodded and climbed into the driver's seat of his car, glancing up to meet Tony's eyes one last time, but his senior agent was already on his way back into the beautiful scene of the crime.

Easiest case they ever solved, and over the day before Christmas too. They had been up late, all of them, processing evidence, but all their work was just necessary confirmation of the statement of the pianist's ex-boyfriend who walked in the front door the next morning to confess. Gibbs released them to the staff Holiday party but when he stopped by himself, Tony was nowhere to be found. Ducky confirmed that Tony hadn't shown his face once.

A mystery.

They would have been on duty until the end of the day and they were all still at work because of the party. Except Tony.

McGee approached with a cookie in hand. "Something wrong, Boss?"

Gibbs grunted. "You seen Tony?"

"No." McGee looked around. "Now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen him all afternoon."

"Who?" Ziva joined them, hand tucked under Ducky's arm.

"Tony." McGee pulled out his phone. "He hasn't called. I'll text him." His thumbs moved.

Once ten minutes passed without an answer, McGee called him since a shake of his head indicated that Gibbs wouldn't. No answer.

A mystery. Ziva's dark eyes met Gibbs', shifted to McGee. They took their leave of Ducky and headed back to the bullpen. Seemed like cheating, and his gut said this had something to do with the murder of the pianist and her Marine, but rather than puzzle it out, Gibbs had McGee trace his cell. South Street Shelter. Tony was going to the benefit for the shelter?

Gibbs' unease grew. Was Tony acting funny because he knew the victim, was tied to her in some way? He looked up into two confused faces. "Did Tony say anything to either of you about knowing the victim?"

"No, Boss." "No, Gibbs."

"Know who?" Abby joined them.

"The victim from the case last night."

"Oh, I don't think so. Why?" Abby's smile fell away as she looked at their serious faces.

"Tony didn't go to the Holiday party." Abby's eyes widened as McGee spoke. "We've tracked his cell phone is at the shelter where the dead fiancee was going to play."

Abby's mouth twisted a little and she looked down.

"Abby…" Gibbs growled.

"What, Gibbs? I don't know why Tony isn't here!"

"You know something, though. Something that explains it."

Abby pouted. "Fine, but I don't think I'm supposed to know." She looked at all three of them. "Tony plays."

"Huh?" McGee.

"He plays the piano." She nodded, pigtails bobbing. "He's really good, Gibbs—"

Gibbs didn't doubt it. Tony was good at things he put his mind to.

" —Remember that time that we had a case at the Naval College? I went back to the practice rooms to take another sample and Tony was playing. I don't think he saw me…" She looked defensive. "What? That's all I know, I swear!"

"He must have...what?...decided to go to the benefit?" Ziva was thinking.

"No." Gibbs knew, all of a sudden. "He's playing."

They all four looked at each other.

"I'll get the car.

"I'll get Ducky and Palmer."

"I'll grab our coats."

"Meet you out front."

The concert hall of the high school was surprisingly nice, and all six got seats together in the middle. Gibbs couldn't help but enjoy the sight of so many families together, though he managed not to smile. The lights dimmed and the concert began. The high school chorus and honors chorus sang, and their band and wind ensemble played. The chorus returned, with the addition of a local community chorus to sing a series of Christmas carols. And then the concert band returned, teenagers filling every other seat.

Gibbs could tell, from their bearing, that the adults who entered to take the empty places were professionals. Last was Tony. Who removed his jacket and seated himself at the piano without looking at the crowd.

The first notes were orchestral. A lone...trumpet or french horn or something like that, Gibbs couldn't tell...played first, but then the confident notes of the piano joined in. Tony's head was bent and seeing the skin of his neck over the smooth cotton, Gibbs thought that he could almost feel Tony's skin under his mouth. He was surprised at the wayward thought, used to separating the two Tony's in his life.

He didn't know much about Classical music, or bands, really, but Gibbs could tell that Tony was very very good. The music swelled and diminished, melody carried by flute and piano in turn, but always with a thrum of base that thrilled Gibbs' Marine soul. When the last notes rang out, died out, in the simple school theater, the applause was loud and enthusiastic. The band rose, Tony rose, and the Chorus trooped out to join them somehow, crowding onto the small stage.

They stood and applauded with the rest, and Tony seemed surprised and somehow embarrassed. Probably not used to playing in front of people, Gibbs figured. It wasn't until Abby whistled and called his name that Tony saw them there. And Gibbs' uncertainty over how Tony would take their attendance at his concert left him at the brilliant smile that Tony gave them, even if it was almost immediately replaced with a much smaller one and some worry lines between his brows.

Tony waved shyly. Now Gibbs had seen everything.

They waited for Tony in the lobby, surrounded by people who knew each other, each of them dropping money into a donation basket at a table by the door.

"Hi, guys." Tony appeared behind Ziva.

"Tony!" Abby threw herself at him and he caught her, hugging her close. His eyes dropped down as he pulled her into his body but he snuck a peek at Gibbs, quick looking away when he caught Gibbs watching. But even as he let go of Abby, let Ziva give him a rare hug, his eyes travelled back to Gibbs, this time letting their eyes meet for longer than an instant. In fact, he gathered enough gumption to challenge Gibbs with his expression.

"What?" His eyes said.

Gibbs smiled, raised his eyebrows in question.

"Fine. I play the piano. You guys gonna make a federal case of it? Dust me for prints?"

They went out for dinner, drinks. They split up into cabs, but without even talking about it, Gibbs and Tony remained behind, breath white in the cold winter air. Gibbs looked down the road for another cab, then turned his head to look at Tony.

"You coming with me, Tony?"

Tony fussed with his gloves, tucked his scarf into his wool coat, finally looked over. "Door's always open, hey, Gibbs?"

"No."

Tony was surprised. "No?"

"Yeah, the door's always open, Tony. But I'm not hoping. I'm asking."

Tony's lips twitched. He reached over and zipped Gibbs jacket for him, hands lingering at his throat before pulling back to dig deep in his pockets. "Yeah?"

Gibbs smiled back, just a little one, but he knew Tony saw the sincerity. "Yeah."

"My heater's not broken." Tony was looking down at his feet now but glanced up to catch Gibbs' gaze.

"That's good." Gibbs nodded approval.

Tony pursed his lips. "I haven't even been shot or anything."

"Even better."

"How long do you want me?"

And now Gibbs huffed a laugh, surprised. He reached out and pulled Tony to him, hugging tight in a quick hug, cold hand on his neck and a firm slap on his back. To look at them, it was a greeting of old friends.

Gibbs pulled back and felt the loss of the warmth of Tony's cheek against his own. Anticipation swelled, knowing he'd feel it again tonight. All night. Maybe every night.

As long as you want to stay. He pressed his lips together, thought about what to say. What not to say.

"As long as you want to stay."

Tony smiled, unsurprised by the consternation on Gibbs' face. Gibbs hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Okay."

Gibbs nodded now, relaxing a little and finally hailing a cab. They didn't touch again until the long ride back to Gibbs' house in the slightly smelly, overheated cab, was over. Until they went up the front walk, through the door, into the dim hallway, the only light an amber glow spilling over from the living room. Gibbs wondered if he had changed the sheets in the guest room.

"It's Christmas eve." Tony spoke behind him.

"Yeah." Gibbs turned.

Tony leaned down, and just like that, laid one on him. Opened his mouth and drew Gibbs to him, slanting lips to draw the blood to the surface and Gibbs felt played, like an instrument, as Tony's fine hands gripped his face, traced simple circles on his jaw, his neck. Gibbs shivered and pushed back, brought his own hands to bear.

"What do you want for breakfast?" He growled against Tony's throat, surprising himself.

Tony didn't answer, too busy stripping off his coat, and clothes, to lay in a heap at his feet in the front hall closet. They would find them, all their clothes, in the morning, like a Christmas present.

Instead of sleeping pressed against Tony's back, Gibbs tugged until Tony turned over and slipped his leg between Gibbs', tucked his face into Gibbs' neck. He didn't rest against Gibbs' chest but rather nuzzled into the man's face so their rough jaws, their ears, rubbed against one another. Tony slipped his arm around Gibbs, made tiny shapes in the hollow of his back.

"Mmmmm." Gibbs pressed closer at the delicious feeling.

Tony smiled against his jaw. "Not the Gibbsiest sound I have ever heard...but I like it."

"Merry Christmas, Tony."

"Merry Christmas, Jethro."

Gibbs fell asleep first, for once, the feel of Tony's fingers, of the soft lips pressing kisses into his jaw and cheek, the only things in the world worth noticing.