Written for DNAchemLia's "Missing Moments Challenge." The challenge was to expand upon a scene, or a comment, that was made in canon. I've always loved this quote. I know others have written better (and more eventful) stories about Tony staying at Gibbs' place, but I had this tiny idea and wanted to write it for fun.
From Season One's "Left for Dead" -
Tony: You remember when I stayed with you that time, when it didn't really go so well?
Gibbs: Yeah, I remember, DiNozzo.
Tony: Well, listen. I was younger then. Immature. A little unfocused...
Gibbs: It was six months ago, Tony.
Later in the episode, Gibbs tells Tony that his door is always unlocked. Tony says that he knows.
Caution: This is pretty much pure fluff.
Rating: K
Genre: Friendship; ficlet
Characters: Tony and Gibbs
Summary: Remember that one time when Tony stayed at Gibbs' place? No? Neither do I.
You can read this as Tibbs, too, if that's your thing.
"I Know I Was A Pain,
(So Here's Twenty Bucks.)"
by K9Lasko
"What in the hell are you doin', DiNozzo?"
"Uh, hey Boss. Didn't know you'd be getting back so soon."
Back when Shannon was alive, and after Kelly had turned four, they decided to add another member to the family. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Their home had a large backyard, Gibbs was earning extra income, and Shannon had some extra time. And with Gibbs being out-of-country so often, Shannon agreed it would be nice to have a watch dog around.
Plus, Kelly had been begging for a puppy for months. She had even progressed to scrawling abstract vaguely dog-shaped drawings on the wall, partially hidden behind a desk. Gibbs would have given the sun and the moon to Kelly, so in the end she had been the deciding factor.
Early on a bright October Saturday, they piled into the old truck and headed out to a family farm that had advertised a litter of Irish Setters in the local newspaper. No one could deny that those damn puppies had been cute.
Maybe - in hindsight - leaving him for a few unsupervised hours was a bad idea. But unlike a pet dog, DiNozzo is a grown man with a badge and a gun. For Christ's sake, he has a government security clearance, too!
Right now that grown man - sans badge and gun - is sitting cross-legged on the living room rug in nothing but his boxer shorts, his wild bed head going strong despite the fact that it's nearly noon. There's a guitar in his lap - an old battered Yamaha Gibbs hadn't cared about in a decade. It had been buried for years in the back of the upstairs hallway closet, underneath winter coats, Christmas decorations, and behind boxes of retro Fisher Price toys.
Which meant- Gibbs clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to relieve the pressure building in his right temple.
"Uh, hey Boss," Tony says in that "oh shit, Gibbs is here" voice he's had two long and exhausting years to perfect. "Didn't know you'd be getting back so soon."
"I didn't either," Gibbs replies as he's looking around the living room. "See you've kept yourself busy."
The hifi is on and turned up two notches above Gibbs' idea of too loud. The music bores into his brain, amplifying his migraine. Tony has found the vinyl records, apparently. They're spread out in random piles. The books nearby have been thoroughly inspected. A few of them have been hastily re-shelved. Not even the VHS tapes have been spared, although Gibbs moved those up to the closet years ago - along with that VCR, which is now mysteriously right here in the living room.
He feels compelled to grab DiNozzo by the neck and march him out the door. Weekends off are not for chaos or for coworkers ripping the house apart and dragging possessions from dark corners that brought out equally dark memories. And here he'd been looking forward to some light housekeeping, some yardwork, and afterwards a beer and a good John Clancy novel. But now, with Tony here making a damn mess of things...
Tony's watching him. He says, "This guitar was really out of tune. You still play?"
Gibbs doesn't answer. He can't get over the mess. It's all a mess. Everything is strewn everywhere.
And why the hell is DiNozzo wearing nothing but boxer shorts? What is wrong with this guy?
"You okay, Boss? I made some pancakes and French press coffee."
That's the straw that broke-
Something smells like it's burning.
"DiNozzo!"
The puppy lasted six months. They named her Hannah. They bought her toys, took her to training classes, loved her. But the Irish Setter, it turned out, was not an ideal breed for their family. She chewed and peed and ran away on a regular basis. Her energy knocked Kelly over on several occasions, and her boredom-driven destructiveness drove Shannon crazy.
They gave her away to Shannon's brother who owned a home on a large tract of rural land. He sent pictures every now and then. He took her out hunting on a regular. Hannah was happy, posing in yellow wintering grass with dead birds.
It wasn't really a life Gibbs could have given her, considering their suburban lifestyle.
So when they got their next dog - named Hannah 2 - they opted for an older Labrador, old and wise and content with the occasional walk around the nearby park.
They eat dinner together. Steak, mashed potatoes, and cold beer.
"So how's the exterminating going?" Gibbs asks when Tony's chatter begins to wane.
Tony chews slowly. "The super's not sure on the timeframe. Maybe a few more days."
"That bad, huh."
"Yeah. Thinking I should move, but I'd have to break the lease."
"Hmm," Gibbs hums before draining his beer.
Silence settles between them. The fire pops and a log shifts. It's so quiet they can hear each other chew. Tony is thankfully fully clothed. He's taken a shower, too. He smells like soap and strong deodorant.
He looks up when he notices that Gibbs is watching him. "I know you don't like me staying here, Boss," he says. "But I'm grateful."
"Always welcome here, Tony," Gibbs assures, perhaps despite better judgement. But like it or not, he's already let Tony in.
"Even when I mess with your stuff?"
Gibbs shakes his head. "Despite that, DiNozzo."
Tony smiles. His eyes are full of life; in the firelight, they're a soulful dark green.
Gibbs looks away and again shakes his head. "You're a pain in the ass."
"Don't you think I know?" There's an odd smirk on Tony's face. "I have to live with myself."
DiNozzo may not be a puppy, but he's as annoying (and, sure... whatever... loveable) as one.
On Wednesday night, Gibbs pulls up and finds his driveway empty despite the fact that Tony had left work two hours prior. Keys in hand, he sits in his car for a bit and breathes in relief. At least he thinks it's relief.
The house is quiet. No music, no food burning, no VCR pulled out of storage and halfway hooked up to the TV. It's lonely, somehow. No "so, what's for dinner." No "let me make you something." The house smells empty, sounds empty, feels empty. Gibbs is struck by how profound this feeling is.
There's a twenty dollar bill and a note on the counter. It's written in DiNozzo's loopy chicken scratch scrawl. He'd recognize that anywhere.
Boss,
Thanks for letting me stay. I know I was a pain, so here's twenty bucks.
Your Very Special Agent,
Tony
"Very" is underlined twice. Gibbs rolls his eyes, crumples the note, and tosses it in the trash. Tomorrow, he'll go to work and stick the money in DiNozzo's backpack.
"Until next time," he murmurs to himself.
END