Title: The Journal
Summary: A late night at work, Gibbs finds a journal, Tony's journal. What is Tony writing about?
Feedback: Always welcome and appreciated. This was not beta read, so any mistakes are mine, please forgive me, I do try and avoid them. Enjoy :)
Thanks again for all the feedback on the previous stories, I love and appreciate you all. ****BIG HUG**** from me to you all!
#####################
The bullpen was empty and the emptiness is exactly what he wanted. It was eleven thirty on a Friday night, no one would be in and he would be able to concentrate on work for a while. Sitting down at his desk, Gibbs flipped open the file and started reading the reports from his team. Signing off on the first report, he flipped to the next. The process repeated through one file to the next and on and on and on. After seven or eight files, Gibbs let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands down his face. Glancing over, Gibbs caught something out of the corner of his eye, sticking out from under Tony's desk. Leaning across his desk, Gibbs narrowed his eyes and tried to decipher what it was. He still wasn't sure.
Making his way over to the front of Tony's desk, Gibbs crouched down and slid the item from under the desk. Standing up, Gibbs stared at the item and turned it over in his hand. Leather bound journal with a leather tie, undone. Flipping the journal open randomly, Gibbs read a handwritten passage.
I felt him before I saw him, like I always do. His presence always powerful, always overwhelming. I feel my breath catch in my throat as his icy blue eyes meet mine. His eyes, they say everything and nothing depending on his mood. Today they say he is, tired and overworked, the weeklong case starting to take its toll on him. I want to be sympathetic, tell him I understand, but that's not what he wants or needs. Instead, I ramble off the information we have so far, nothing new, which rewards me with a glare. Now his eyes are annoyed and slightly angry. He runs his hand through his silver hair, the Marine cut keeping it short and neat.
Stopping, Gibbs closed the journal and stared at the cover for a moment. Again, he randomly opened the journal and read a passage.
I can't stop having that dream of him. It's always the same and always erotic. He's sitting at his desk, his blue eyes staring at me, beckoning me, commanding me to come to him. I don't resist, and as he turns his chair I fall to my knees before him. His hand caresses my cheek briefly then drifts away. Then he leans back, still commanding me with those haunting blue eyes. I unzip his pants and take out his already hard cock, it's lengthy, full of girth and I want nothing more than to devour every inch. I lick the head, tasting his essence already there. He moans and runs his fingers through my hair urging me on. My lips surround the head of his cock then I slowly slide down his cock until it's completely down my throat. He growls my name as he thrusts up into my throat. All I want to do is make him come.
Slamming the journal closed, Gibbs rubbed his forehead. It can't be about me? There are probably tons of men here with blue eyes, silver hair and a Marine like haircut. He looked down at the journal again. Who the hell did this belong to? Tony? It was under his desk, but someone else could have dropped it? Ziva, McGee, hell someone other than his team. He sighed. Unlikely, few people other than his team walked through this area of the bullpen. Gibbs reputation preceded him and few people wanted to cross his path. There was the cleaning staff, the mail, visitors.
Returning to his desk, Gibbs opened the journal again then opened a file flipping to a report written by Ziva. He compared the handwriting. She always wrote in an odd combination of print and cursive, very stylized and beautiful as if she were painstakingly making each letter. He always thought her unique handwriting had come from her years of writing in Hebrew or Arabic. The writing in the journal, was printed, but looked nothing like hers. No elongated y's and j's, and no mixture of print and cursive. Moving on, Gibbs turned to a report written by McGee. As with everything McGee did, his writing style was like a computer. Bold print, large and easily readable. Still it wasn't a match, McGee wrote in large letters each and every one looked exactly the same. In the journal, the writing was less precise, and took more concentration to read.
Finally, Gibbs turned to a report from Tony. He took a deep breath. When he had first saw the writing in the journal it had immediately reminded him of Tony's handwriting. But looking at the report and journal side by side, there were differences. Tony was all chicken scratches and impatient annoyance, barely readable, by anyone. Gibbs could read it, simple because he'd had years to learn how to decipher it. Still, some letters looked similar. The journal seemed to be what Tony's handwriting would be if he took his time and cared about what he was writing.
Leaning back in his chair, Gibbs sighed. Could the journal really be Tony's? And could Tony be writing about him? Gibbs shook his head. It couldn't be Tony's! They were friends, nothing more. Tony would never have sexual fantasies about him. Tony was all about the women, all about the chase. Gibbs chuckled, the way he teased McGee about being gay, the intense sexual tension he had with Ziva, Tony wouldn't want to be with a man, especially him. He ran his hands down his face. It could be Abby, Palmer or Ducky, they all spent time in the bullpen. Running through the last week, Gibbs tried to remember if any of them had been in the bullpen. Abby had on Monday or Tuesday, but it couldn't be hers. Again, he knew her handwriting and it was not remotely like what was in the journal. Plus if she had lost something like this early in the week she would have already been up here going crazy looking for it.
Staring at the notebook he tried to decide what to do. He couldn't put it back and take the risk of the cleaning crew or someone else finding it, especially if it was about him. Maybe he should slip it in one of Tony's desk drawers. Gibbs groaned. God no because if it wasn't Tony's he would read it and he'd draw the same conclusion Gibbs had.
Grabbing the journal and his coat, Gibbs covered the journal in his hand with the coat and headed towards the elevator.
#############
Standing in front of the boat, Gibbs worked the drill into the wood. He had come home, changed into jeans and a t-shirt and immediately came to the boat. It was the one thing that normally cleared his mind, but it wasn't helping. It was already five in the morning and he couldn't focus, couldn't sleep, and kept glancing over to the journal that was sitting on the work bench. Frustrated, he gave up, tossing the drill down he walked over and grabbed the journal. He sat down on one of the sawhorses and stared at it. This was private, someone's deepest thoughts, he shouldn't be reading this. But the belief that it was Tony's and that his Senior Field Agent, his friend was writing about him, caused his curiosity to win out over respecting Tony's privacy.
He opened the journal to the front page. It was simply a blank white page, flipping to the next page, the writing began.
February 21, 2009
I can't take it anymore. I need an outlet, something, somewhere, to express my feelings. I can't tell my friends, so many of them our friends, they won't understand. And even if they did, I can't risk him finding out. He can never find out how I feel. I know he doesn't feel the same, can't feel the same, it's just not who he is. Plus I can't lose our friendship, can't lose the one person who is always there for me. I won't risk that!
This is easier, safer; here I can say what I feel without risk, without judgment, and without loss. Here I can say what I need to say, feel what I need to feel, and maybe even believe, just for a moment, that he could care for me as more than a friend.
The first entry ended and the next was dated weeks later.
March 7, 2009
It's been weeks, I know, but work has been crazy. Hard cases and long hours. And too much time spent in his presence. He is overworked, tense and grumpy. The cases have been wearing on him. No one else sees it, he's an expert at hiding his feelings, but I see it. I have learned to read him better than most, although he is still so much a mystery. But I see the slight weariness around those cool blue eyes. I see the added tension in his shoulders when he walks. I see the heaviness in the way he sits down in the chair at his desk. All are minute changes in him, unnoticed by the untrained eye. But I see it.
I wish he would let me help in some way. I wish he would talk to me, trust me enough to understand and offer support. It doesn't happen. I wonder if there is someone, anyone he talks to. Someone outside of work, someone I know nothing about. I'm sure he has friends I'm unaware of, friends he's had for years, long before we ever met. I hope he has someone, some individual he feels comfortable enough with that they offer him solace when he needs it.
Part of me finds it hard to believe he would open up to anyone. He is solitary, by choice or design; I'm still not quite sure. He has had so much heartache and pain in his life that opening up must be hard. I wish he would let me in, even in some small way.
The entry ended and Gibbs rubbed his forehead. Tony really was the one person that could read him. The younger man had gotten closer to him than any agent before him. He trusted Tony with his life, and they were friends, but Gibbs really wasn't the type to just open up about his life or the things that bothered him. Solitary by design or choice? He wasn't even sure himself.
The ringing of his phone brought him out of his thoughts and he picked it up looking at the caller id.
"Yeah Gibbs.
"Agent Gibbs, Agent Ramson." The other man paused. "Agent DiNozzo showed up about fifteen minutes ago."
"And?" Gibbs asked.
"He's definitely looking for something." Another pause. "Tearing his desk apart and looking all over the bullpen."
Gibbs sighed. "Thanks Ramson."
"No problem. Hey-"
Gibbs waited.
"He's leaving."
"Got it thanks again."
"Anytime."
Closing the phone, Gibbs sighed. The journal was Tony's. What else would he be searching for at work on a Saturday morning? He couldn't think about this anymore right now. With his phone and the journal he headed up the stairs hoping to get some sleep.
############
The room was silent, completely still, almost pitch black, except for the few rays of light that seeped in from around the bedroom shades. For the first time in a long time, the silence wasn't comforting, instead it was bothering him, reminding him of the emptiness of the house. Sitting up in bed, Gibbs dropped his head back against the head board and took a deep breath. He glanced over at the journal on the bedside table. Now that he knew it was Tony's, he really shouldn't read it. Tony was his Senior Agent, his friend, and he shouldn't invade his privacy. The few entries he had already read had been deeply personal. And the first entry had made it clear Tony didn't want him to know about any of this.
Gibbs ran his hands through his hair, but now he did know and in some way that already changed everything. Now he had all these questions in his head that he wanted answers to, answers that the journal might give him. He picked up the journal and opened it a few pages past where he had been reading in the basement.
April 9, 2009
All day he was in my personal space, everywhere we went, and it drove me insane. First he was behind me, his body so close I could feel the warmth against my back and butt. His breath so close to my ear and neck it made me shiver and I prayed he didn't notice, but he notices everything. Thankfully, there was a cool breeze and I use it as a cover for my arousal, rubbing my arms as if cold, when in reality my whole body is on fire. The next time he is in front of me, toe to toe and nose to nose, he's shouting about the lack of information we have. I tried to concentrate on his anger, but all I can focus on is his warm breath against my face and his natural scent that fills the air around me. I take a deep breath, taking the scent deep within me wanting it to stay with me forever, but as he steps away I can feel it already begin to disappear. A sadness washes over me and I can't hide it. He glances at me, believing I'm hurt by his harshness, and I let him believe that.
Hours later, he is to close again. This time leaning down by me at my desk. His arm is on the back of my chair and I lean back to feel the arm touch my back. I close my eyes momentarily, knowing he isn't looking at my face but the computer screen. I open them quickly as he asks a question, I somehow answer, even though I don't remember actually hearing the question. Again, I feel his breath against the side of my face. To quickly the moment ends and he is gone before I can even react or respond.
April 14, 2009
I've never been happier for a week to end. The dreams have started again and I can hardly look at him. He's notice, asked if something is wrong, and I blame it on lack of sleep. Lack of sleep that I imply is caused by someone I'm seeing. It's a half truth. I haven't been getting enough sleep, but the cause of it is the dreams, dreams of him. Sexy, hot, lust induced dreams of him throwing me on the bed and fucking me. And I beg for it. Beg him to fuck me, harder, faster and to never stop. He does just that, over and over again, stopping only long enough for his cock to get hard again, which seems to happen in mere moments. It's because he wants me so much, that's what he tells me as he starts to fuck me again. I come without him ever touching me, that's how much I want him.
That dream is the reason I'm so glad the work week is over. At least over the weekend I won't have to see him or explain. Instead, when the dream happens I can simply wake up masturbate and fall asleep again, then wake up and do it all over.
As the entry ended, Gibbs stopped. He pushed the sheet off of him, his body suddenly flushed and warm. He tried to remember back to that time, that moment when he asked Tony what was wrong but that had happened countless times. Shaking his head, Gibbs started reading the next entry praying it wasn't about the dream.
April 15, 2009
I woke up this morning, my cock hard, my body moist with sweat. The dream again. It's been over a week now and the dream refuses to stop, instead it's even more intense. I can feel his hands touching my body, his breath on my shoulder, his lips on my neck, the gentle nip of his teeth, his cock pressing against me. Again, I beg him not just to fuck me but to do whatever he wants to me. I want nothing but him, his body, his mind, his hands, his lips, his cock, everything he can give to me. We make love for hours in every position and in every room available. Then thinking we're done, he takes me to the shower and takes me there. My hands against the cool tile, the warm water quickly turning cold. This time he's touching me and I come, over and over again, as does he. When we finally leave the shower, we collapse on the bed totally spent.
As amazing as the dream is, I wake up wishing I could have the real thing. I masturbate with no thought but him. It's still empty, when all I want is him here next to me.
Gibbs took a deep breath, then looked down at his lap, unaware his hand had come to rest over his hardening cock. Don't do this. He told himself. If you give in now, you won't want to go back.
##########
Taking the cup of coffee, he walked back into the living room. He'd finally gotten a few hours of sleep, but the desire to keep reading the journal was the only thought in his mind. Sitting down on the couch, Gibbs grabbed the journal and again skipped a few pages, hoping to move past the erotic dreams.
May 21, 2009
Why do I put myself through it? Spending time with him, outside of work, it just makes everything harder. He's different when we're alone, more relaxed, even a little more open, not much but a little. It makes me believe in some way, I'm important, special to him. Today he was shirtless when I got there. Standing by the steps, t-shirt in hand and I was completely unprepared. He's so sexy and hot fully clothed; I can only imagine how amazing he is naked. I try not to stare at his chest, but keep my gaze locked on his eyes. It's only when he turns to walk into the other room that I allow my eyes to skim over his back, watching the muscles of his shoulders flex and tighten as he pulls the t-shirt over his head. He's sexy, beautiful, manly and I want nothing more than to be with him in every way.
When he turned back around, I actually opened my mouth to speak. I wanted to tell him exactly what I was feeling. Instead, I blurt out some stupid statement that has nothing to do with anything. He gives me an odd look then just shakes his head, sloughing it off as part of my normal manic self. After that we fall into our normal friendship and I realize again that I can't risk it.
May 29, 2009
I stood looking out the window and he was sitting at his desk. I was trying to think about the case, but all I could think about wanting him to walk up behind me and wrap his arms around me. I think about that every time I know he's behind me. It's not even sexual; it's wanting the comfort of his arms, wanting him close to me. Sometimes I know, I make it seem like it's all about sex with him, but it's not. It's so much more than that.
He knows who he is, he's completely comfortable with himself, and no one can question that. Because of that he doesn't care what anyone thinks of him and he never does anything to impress someone. Plus he's comfortable in the silence, something I can't be, unless I'm in the silence with him.
Closing the journal, Gibbs tried to let it all sink in, it just seemed too unreal.
"Gibbs?"
The familiar voice from the front door, abruptly brought Gibbs from his thoughts. Clutching the journal Gibbs quickly stuffed it under the couch cushion.
"Hey bad time?" Tony asked walking into the living room.
"No." Gibbs sighed as he stood up. "What is it?"
"I just-" Tony shook his head. "Bad day."
Gibbs stared at Tony for a minute then chuckled. "Beer?"
"God yes." Tony sighed.
"Sit." Gibbs nodded towards the couch then went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple beers.
"Thanks." Tony smiled from the couch as Gibbs handed him the beer.
Taking a seat at the other end of the couch, Gibbs took a swig from his bottle. "Okay."
Tony smirked, that was Gibbs way of saying he was ready to listen.
"Just feeling old."
Gibbs glanced over at Tony and chuckled.
"Okay maybe not old but tired." Tony ran his hands over his face.
Gibbs nodded.
"How do you do it?" Tony looked over at Gibbs.
"What?"
"Just be." Tony shrugged. "In the silence all around you."
Gibbs swallowed hard recalling the journal entry. "I just do it."
"Power's out at my apartment." Tony sighed. "I sat there for twenty minutes, no noise. No TV, no radio, no humming of the fan, I finally had to leave. I couldn't take it anymore."
Another nod.
"And I walk in here and you're sitting here in the silence I just ran away from."
"It's just silence."
Tony dropped his head back on the couch. "I can't take it, at least not alone."
Leaning his head back like Tony, Gibbs sighed. "Most people don't like lonely silence."
Surprise by the statement, Tony turned his head to the side and looked at Gibbs. "Do you?"
"No." Gibbs shocked himself with the admission.
Sitting up, Tony pulled a leg up onto the couch and faced Gibbs. "Then why do you do it."
Gibbs sighed with a laugh. "I don't know."
Tony stared at Gibbs, taken back by his honesty. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"
Turning to look at Tony, Gibbs rolled his eyes.
"I'm serious." Tony grinned and his eyebrow went up. "Are you drunk?"
"Hardly."
"Did you inhale too many chemical down in the basement?"
"I'm fine." Gibbs rolled his eyes again.
"Let me see the back of your neck." Tony leaned over towards Gibbs.
"What!"
"I want to see if you have a red x on your neck." Tony grinned. "Invasion of the Body Snatchers."
Gibbs' gaze stayed on Tony for a moment then he leaned forward exposing the back of his neck to Tony.
"Satisfied?"
"Yeah." Tony nodded his voice slightly shaky.
Drawing back, Gibbs' eyes met Tony's again.
"You hungry?" Gibbs asked.
Tony nodded.
"Pizza or Chinese?"
"Chinese." Tony smiled.
###########
"You did that?" Gibbs actually looked surprised.
"How else was I supposed to get out?"
Gibbs smirked. "Leave naked, seems more your style."
Tony grinned. "Sometimes."
Gibbs shook his head.
"You've never had to get out of a woman's house in a hurry?"
"Yeah." Gibbs nodded. "But I always make sure I know where my clothes are."
Tony laughed and pointed. "See that's what I always forget."
Gibbs chuckled.
"I have to start remembering that." Tony said before shoving another forkful of food in his mouth.
"Where else have you been sneaking out of without your clothes?" Gibbs asked picking at his food.
Tony's eyebrow went up. "Um, someplace specific you wanna ask about?"
"An ex-boyfriend's houses you had to hurry out of?" Gibbs glanced over at Tony.
Tony coughed trying to clear his throat as he almost choked. "Ex-boyfriends?"
Gibbs nodded.
"Um, wow. I mean-" Tony stammered. "I'm um not sure how to answer that."
"Honestly."
"Yeah." Tony took a deep breath. "No, ex-boyfriends, but I, um have had a few experiences."
"Experiences?" Gibbs smirked. "I see."
Tony wanted to ask about Gibbs line of questioning but something stopped him. Fear, concern, shock...no it was fear.
Gibbs glanced at his watch. "Saturday, almost eleven o'clock. Shouldn't you be on a date?"
Tony chuckled. "I see, change the subject before I start wanting to ask my own questions."
"No." Gibbs shook his head. "Just making an observation."
"Part of that bad day I was talking about."
"Date canceled?" Gibbs asked.
"Last night." Tony shrugged. "Happens."
"And you couldn't come up with another date?" Gibbs looked shocked.
"I did."
Gibbs eyebrow went up.
"She canceled this afternoon, sick." Tony smirked.
"Stuffs by the couch." Gibbs said standing up.
"You're way of saying you're welcome to stay DiNozzo." Tony grinned.
"Yeah." Gibbs nodded.
"Okay, then I'm gonna hit the head and curl up on the couch."
"Have at it."
Waiting until Tony disappeared; Gibbs grabbed the journal from under the couch cushion and headed upstairs.
###########
He listened to the movement down stairs, waiting until Tony settled onto the couch to sleep before opening the journal again. This time he randomly opened the pages and read the entry before him.
January 3, 2010
I wonder sometimes what it would be like, if he knew how I felt. Numerous scenarios play across my mind. The first and always the worst, is the one where he can't accept it. He tries, but he can't get past it, can't understand how I can feel that way. He won't believe that I would never let it affect my job. It hasn't affected my job all these years why would that change just because he knows. But because he can't accept that, it's a transfer or worse yet, fired.
The second scenario is better, a little. He understands how I feel, accepts it even, but he doesn't feel anything for me but friendship. My job stays my job, but our friendship is never the same. He's even more distant, if that's even possible, and he's somehow uncomfortable when we're alone.
The final scenario, the one I pray for, is where he wants more. He wants me as much as I want him. It's us, passionate, raw and everything I ever wanted. Of course I know nothing is that easy, especially when it comes to him. If it turned out he did feel something for me, we'd probably dance around the issue for months. Me to scared to make the first move, and him not wanting to make the first move. Or maybe he'd surprise me.
Next entry
January 7, 2010
She was there today. I don't know how long they've been seeing each other, or how serious it is, I only know I can't stand to see her around him. The way she smiles at him coyly, grins playfully, and stands within his personal space. She does it to stake her claim, to show that in some way he is hers. And of course, he lets her. Although part of him dislikes the familiarity she exudes towards him, another part of him relishes it, enjoys it. Because he knows the thought and reason behind it.
And so do I. My stomach clenches, my heart rate rises as my blood courses angrily through my veins. Jealousy is an ugly thing, especially when I have no right to be. With the jealousy is the hatred I have towards her, for no other reason than she is with him. He isn't mine in anyway…accept for the fact that I love him.
Gibbs dropped the journal into his lap then ran his hands down his face. Love? That was the first time he'd read the word in the journal. Tony was in love with him. That one word changes everything. This wasn't about sex, or a casual relationship, when loves involved there's no settling for less.
##########
Gibbs rolled over and took a deep breath, the smell of coffee filling his senses and making him smile. He opened his eyes and glanced over at the clock, seven thirty, late for him. Climbing out of bed, he slipped on a pair of sweats and grabbed a t-shirt. He was just about to slip it on when he stopped and tossed it over his shoulder, then headed down stairs.
Reaching the kitchen, he smirked and leaned against the wall.
"Domesticated."
Tony turned around and smiled. "Morning."
"Morning."
Gibbs watched as Tony's eyes momentarily drifted down his bare chest then quickly jerked back up to his eyes. It took all of Gibbs control not to grin.
"Um, pancakes."
"Okay." Gibbs nodded as he made his way over and poured a cup of coffee. He took a sip, then sat the cup down and pulled the t-shirt on over his head.
"It's ready." Tony stammered.
Gibbs grabbed a pancake from the plate next to the stove and took a bite. "Good."
Tony started laughing. "There's syrup and plates."
Gibbs stared at Tony.
"Plate, pancake, syrup on top." Tony grinned. When Gibbs just stood there, Tony shook his head. He grabbed another plate, put three pancakes on the plate and poured syrup on them, then handed the plate to Gibbs. "Can you feed yourself or do I need to cut them up and feed it to you too?"
Gibbs gave Tony a look as if he were contemplating the question.
"Seriously? You're considering it?"
Gibbs smirked then took the plate and headed towards the table.
A few minutes later, Tony carried a plate to the table and sat across from Gibbs.
"Nice way to wake up." Gibbs said as he put another forkful of pancake in his mouth.
"Glad you approve." Tony smiled.
"Coffee, pancakes, what more could I want?"
Tony felt the icy blue eyes staring at him and his body actual shivered. What the hell was up with Gibbs?
"I'll get this cleaned up." Tony stood up quickly grabbed Gibbs empty plate and his own.
"You staying?" Gibbs asked.
Tony dropped the dishes in the sink and started the water. "I, um, need to head out soon. Check to see if the power is back on at my place."
"Okay." Gibbs said suddenly beside Tony refilling his coffee mug. He took a sip. "If it's not your always welcome."
Dropping the plate back into the water, Tony leaned back against the sink and folded his arms across his chest.
"What?" Gibbs asked seeing Tony's odd expression.
"What is the question." Tony shook his head. "What's going on with you? You're pleasant, amusing, talkative, suddenly treating me like...I don't even know. And it's completely freakin' me out."
"This isn't work." Gibbs sat down his coffee cup. "I was treating you like a friend."
Tony's head drew back with shock.
Gibbs chuckled. "Is it that shocking?"
"No. I mean I know we're friends, it's just-" Tony paused. "It's always been a work friendship, even when I'm here. This is different."
"Yeah." Gibbs nodded.
Tony stared at Gibbs. "Why the sudden change?"
Gibbs shrugged. "Friendships change, evolve."
"And our friendship is evolving?"
"Yeah. It is." Gibbs smiled.
"Wow." Tony chuckled. "So this is your friendship persona?"
"Persona?" Gibbs shook his head. "It's just how I am, with friends."
"Intriguing." Tony smiled. "And nice, different, but I like it."
Gibbs picked up his coffee mug and took a drink.
"So going to start letting me call you Jethro?" Tony grinned.
"Maybe." Gibbs smirked
"Really?" Again Tony looked shocked.
"Why is that important to you?" Gibbs asked.
"It makes things personal, not professional." Tony answered.
"And you want things more personal between us?"
Tony glanced at the floor then nodded.
"Jethro it is then." Gibbs said before taking another sip of coffee.
"That's it?" Tony chuckled. "That's all it takes."
"Yeah." Gibbs took a step towards Tony. "Just remember, work is still work."
"And you're still the boss." Tony smiled.
Gibbs shrugged. "At work I am, not here."
Tony couldn't help it he bit his lower lip as an inappropriate thought ran through his mind. "Right."
"Leave the dishes." Gibbs paused. "You should go, check your apartment."
Tony nodded not really wanting to leave, but knowing he needed to.
##########
Sitting on the couch, Gibbs again stared at the journal lying on the coffee table; he needed to stop reading it. This was already getting out of hand. Running his hands down his face, he let out a long breath. The thing was...he wanted it to get out of hand. Wanted Tony in his arms, wanted their lips lost in a deep embrace, wanted Tony naked in his bed, wanted to make love to Tony all night long.
Gibbs sighed as he rubbed his forehead. The truth was he'd wanted Tony for years. He'd just never acted on it for countless reasons...Rule twelve always at the forefront of his mind, but Tony himself being the main reason. Gibbs always figured Tony had dabbled with men, but he never thought Tony would want a relationship with a man or could be in love with a man. But reading the journal had told Gibbs just the opposite. Tony wanted a relationship and was in love, with him.
Yesterday, today, all of it was more than their friendship evolving; it was Gibbs testing the waters. He wanted them to get closer but he also wanted to push the envelope just slightly. Wanted to see if Tony would give anything away or push back. But there was nothing.
He opened the journal, this time to earlier this year.
June 13, 2011
He's angry with me, but takes it out on other people, why I'm not sure. He's never had a problem yelling at me before. But then I start to understand. We are not the ones fighting. We are merely not talk, because if he has to talk he would have to explain, and he doesn't like to explain, especially to me. Still, I know what the problem is. I've broken a Commandment and I'm being punished for it. I try to explain but he doesn't hear, doesn't want to, only sees that I have betrayed him.
Actually, I've betrayed us both. I was tired. Tired of him being completely unaware of how I feel, tired of him not letting me in, even as a friend, and tired of loving him knowing it's futile. That is why I did it. I wanted his anger, his silence, I wanted a fight. At least with a fight I get something from him, I can actually feel like he cares. I know it's ridiculous, childish, but it's easier than being honest.
June 15, 2011
We're talking again, but it is still strained, still awkward. He still feels the betrayal even though in some way he's forgiven me. Maybe he cares more than I think, because I never expected this to hurt him so much. Yet he is hurt. I can read it on his face, in his eyes, see it in the way he carries himself. But most of all I can tell by the way he forces himself to look at me. It's as if he never believed I could do something like this to him. That look breaks my heart, shatters it into a million pieces. I've went too far this time and I regret it every day. I want to take it all back, but that's impossible, so all I can do is repair what I've broken.
Gibbs knew all too well what Tony was talking about and he had felt betrayed, in so many ways. But he had always believed the motivation behind it was Tony thinking with the wrong head. He skipped a couple pages ahead.
July 21, 2011
I shouldn't have stayed at his place; it gets worse every time I do. Knowing he's so close, but not being able to be with him. I end up lying there awake thinking about how much I want to go to him. Which leads me to fantasizing. It's the middle of the night and I strip down then make my way to his bedroom. He's asleep on his back, the blanket draped over his midsection, his bare chest and legs exposed. I climb onto the end of the bed between his legs, gently brushing the blanket aside. He's naked and I lick my lips when I see his cock. I let my fingers brush over his flaccid cock and he stirs slightly. I stop momentarily, but then repeat the action. His cock begins to harden and I fight the urge to moan. He's long and thick, even more than I imagined and it makes me want him even more. Seeing him like this I can't control myself any longer. I lick at the head of his cock, tasting him and wanting more. He moans. I look up at him, his eyes are still closed. Wrapping my lips around the head of his cock, I slowly move down over his shaft and he groans. I love the way he tastes and start to bob up and down over his cock.
He moans again and thrusts his hips up pushing his cock further down my throat. Then I felt him jump and know he's awake. I slide up his cock and look up at him before sliding back down, taking all of him in.
"What are you-" He groans as I continued to deep throat him. "Fuck."
I won't stop; I want to make him come. I feel his hand on my head and realize he doesn't want me to stop.
"Suck my cock." He growls again thrusting into my mouth.
I do exactly what he wants, letting my other hand massage his balls.
"That's it." He says staring down at me. "I love the way you suck my cock."
I moan around him.
"God, I should have made you do this years ago."
I wish he would have too.
"Close, so close."
I want to taste it, want him to come so I can drink every last drop. After just a few more passes, I get my wish as he cries out my name and comes.
He melts into the bed as I continue to suck and lick his cock.
Gibbs groaned as he stroked his cock, he was close, so close. Reading the fantasy having made him pull out his cock and start stroking it. He closed his eyes and pictured Tony's mouth wrapped around him.
"Oh God." Gibbs moaned as he felt the release, the world fading away as he came screaming Tony's name.
#########
