A/N: Written for day 8 of Tibbs_Yuletide 2014 on LiveJournal. Look it up, there is a lot of great work there from this and many past years! This is my Obligatory Sexy Shirt Fic, because of that MH pic in the white button down. Yeah, that one, but there is much more to this story than that. kj_svala on LiveJournal, also day 8 Tibbs_Yuletide 2014, did a graphic for this fic!
Spoilers: Baltimore and Finace. Warnings: Nah. Disclaimer: Im sure they meant well. Feedback: Oh, Lord yes, please.
O Come All Ye Faithful
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Marriage, divorce, dalliance, disappointment. Gibbs had a history with women.
With DiNozzo there was something else, something more. For one thing, he was still around, neither lost to death nor driven away by dark deeds.
Tony's recruitment and training had been followed by brutal case-loads, screaming fights, head-slaps, and far too many close calls. From this had emerged friendship and a shared intuition that hovered a fair distance above everyone's heads, sometimes even their own.
Terms got negotiated in places of refuge, most notably the basement, where they could drink, attend to wounds received and inflicted, and generally shake off the grit of a dirty job.
Ear-to-brain or eye-to-eye, it didn't seem to matter - they liked being together and listening to each other think. All kinds of things became synonymous with "Tony," and the more Gibbs grew accustomed to it, the more it mattered to him what they were doing down here, man-to-man.
In time he'd learned that the lights had always been on inside Tony's closet, so it was no wonder they'd been wearing the luster like a second skin, casting it around and reflecting it off of one another, for years.
When they'd finally gotten around to thinking the same thing at the same time, there had been a monumental explosion, which Gibbs smirkingly referred to as the Sexual Revolution. He'd been treated to awed laughter and an onslaught of euphemism from Tony, who thought a formal announcement would put them at a distance from their team.
"Afraid of insulting their intelligence, Tony?"
"Me? Are you kidding?"
More at issue were their trust and their sense of importance. Clannish, dedicated, and loyal, they'd earned the right to respond as they would and to talk it out amongst themselves.
And of course to conceal would be to lie to their friends - infinitely destructive, completely unacceptable.
"Probably on to us anyway."
"Let 'em take it in stride, then. It'll be a lot more fun."
By the time the two of them were sharing a roof, a locked door at Gibbs' house produced more thrill than shock.
Now after a year together Gibbs wanted to do something special for Tony, and not something ceremonial or predictable, either. He racked his brain a little, consulted his gut a good deal more, and an idea appeared in the form of an incredibly awkward event in the bullpen and an addendum scrawled at the bottom of one of DiNozzo's shopping lists.
It didn't even belong on a list. Tin foil, light bulbs, Christmas presents, sure, but not something big and obvious, not something akin to Gibbs writing "work on the boat" on a to-do list.
Clothes? DiNozzo thought about clothes as often as he breathed.
Gibbs read the rest of the list and left it where he found it.
"Abby, what is wrong with him? It is only once a year. I will be there and it is not even my holiday."
"I know, Ziva..." Abby sighed. "He just doesn't seem to enjoy it."
"How would anyone know?"
"Good point. I think it's really hard for him, though."
"Certainly he knows we wish for him to come! We must get Tony involved. If anyone can make Gibbs come, it is Tony."
"He's not coming, Ziva," Abby said mournfully and out of long experience.
"He hasn't come in years."
McGee stood rooted to the floor about three feet from the front of his desk and Gibbs blew past him, dipping his shoulder and swinging around the corner of his own desk, right elbow fixed at its permanent ninety-degree angle, coffee cup in hand.
"I'm not going, and I haven't been in years."
Abby departed without a word and Ziva sat silently with a thoughtful look on her face.
"Sit-rep, McGee!"
"We want you to come, ah, go, to the Christmas party this year, Boss."
Gibbs stared at the younger agent, not bothering with "Well, duh" or "Ya think," and slowly let half a grin cross his face until Tim was a nice shade of scarlet. He filled his lungs as if to shout and when McGee blanched, he formed the words carefully and whispered instead.
"The case, Tim."
"Oh, right, Boss! There is no case. I mean, it's over, it's done. I was about to call you when you walked in..."
"McGee."
"Tony broke him."
"Good. So where's DiNozzo?"
"Arranging for someone to pick up the loot and bring it to the lock-up."
"Ziva?"
"Finishing my report...now!" she proclaimed with a final stab to the keys. She looked up hopefully. "Gibbs, would you reconsider...?" McGee turned anxious eyes on him as well.
"Haven't decided," Gibbs muttered as Tony swooped out of the elevator with a grin.
Tony sat at the dining table and fumbled through his lists. He wasn't an ardent list-maker, didn't use them to order his daily existence despite note-taking being second nature. Or maybe because of it, because he didn't derive pleasure from checking off his life as if eliminating suspects. It felt creepy. It wasn't like he had some kind of rule against it though, and if he had, holidays would qualify as exceptions. Gift lists were a necessity, not a neurosis, and the bustle of Christmas brought extra events of many kinds.
He'd gathered up his lists from around the house and from within his pockets, because he'd gone a little overboard, and was preparing to go through them for purposes of consolidation. It would be the first milestone in the list-perfecting process, the point at which he would begin to feel a real sense of accomplishment. Next he would decide he was over-thinking it and that he should start from scratch. A neatly penned list in all caps would be the end product, clean and precise, but first he had to get started.
The pile of paper in front of him was read in short order, and he was wiggling his pen with happy confidence when he scooped up the last scrap, the only one that had been on the table all along. Giving it a glance, he stopped and remembered again why he didn't do lists for his personal life.
Note-taking led to free-associating and sometimes to compulsive scribbling, and while this was useful in casework, he didn't like doing it on himself, not on paper. He wasn't comfortable with the whole "Dear Diary" thing, it made him feel vulnerable and exposed. He preferred to agonize about things in his head, then have them sort themselves out over time - or a movie, or a talk with someone, usually Jethro nowadays.
Clothes.
In what mood had he written "clothes" in broad cursive across the bottom of an ordinary shopping list? Okay, not an ordinary shopping list, a bunch of stuff he was supposed to round up for the NCIS Christmas party, plus a reminder to order a gift for an old friend in Baltimore. He turned the list over and sure enough, there on the back was a quote in a script he recognized, though he honestly didn't remember writing it - doodling in his old handwriting, conjuring ghosts.
He smiled sadly. It was inevitable that some melancholia surface at Christmastime. The bittersweet was to be welcomed in small doses - he knew it was essential to appreciating what he had, what the holidays were about.
Baltimore had made him think of Danny, obviously, and Tony was a lot of things, but he wasn't ungrateful, so he set his lists aside for the moment.
Danny, for all his flaws, had been a good friend, lacking malice even more than he had lacked judgment. He'd said things over two short years that Tony had taken squarely to heart, never to be forgotten. He was smart if not as smart as Tony, and his gloomy sarcasm had been tinged with humor. He'd been in fine form the day Tony's life had changed forever, a day not long after Christmas, the day Tony had met Gibbs.
"With the right clothes you'd be unstoppable."
Danny could be proud of that one. With Tony gone for good a few days later, it had risen to the level of prophecy, and Danny had been equally prophetic the day of his death.
"Long time, old buddy. Too long. About the way we left things - We need to talk."
The words had reached Tony's ears after they found the body. That had been the worst of it, and even though he and Gibbs had gotten justice for the guy, Tony was sorry for having shunned Danny for so long.
There hadn't been much choice at the time - Danny had been in business with a perp, throwing his career away for a measly profit that hadn't amounted to anything in the end, and Tony had known which side he had to pick. He hadn't considered the possibility that Danny was being coerced into something that would hound him into an early grave. No, he had simply fled - a dirty partner was too much to deal with. Ten years later, in his plain-spoken way, Danny had been right again.
"I'm not the only one who saw what he wanted to see."
Tony had been young back then, angry and hurt, with no one left to turn to but the Navy Guy, and the Navy Guy was what he'd wanted to see. Gibbs. Gibbs was so much of everything that Tony had felt the world coming unstuck beneath him, in more ways than one. He'd veritably leapt out of his old life and into that of NCIS, into the life of a man who would kick his ass, save his neck and break his heart a dozen times over before...
God, how had he gotten this lucky? He was right outside the man's kitchen for crap's sake, and tonight he would be in their bed, sleeping soundly or moving in rhythm with Gibbs' hands and Gibbs' voice, with the man who had made him more than he would have been on his own.
"Thanks, Danny..." Tony murmured to himself, and then with a small smile, "...you too, Wendy."
Seeing him for who he was, as much as that had been possible, Wendy had let him go. The story was that she'd left him at the altar - which she had, and it had sucked - but the truth was that she'd known about the way he sometimes behaved with other boys, back when what was between the two of them was the music. Later on he'd convinced her it had been a phase, not knowing any better himself.
"I've got you, silly. Case closed, marry me!"
Mere weeks after she said yes, Tony's job was gone and Jethro Gibbs was front and center. There'd been pain, and tears, and okay some screaming too.
"He's going to be my boss! Why are you doing this?"
"You took the job without telling me."
"What, you don't think I can do better?"
"Wow."
"I mean job-wise... Ahh!"
"Tony, I'm older than you. I was your teacher. Maybe this wasn't the best idea, just... let me know what happens, or don't, but I will not compete with that look in your eyes when you say his name - not for a job, not for anything!"
They'd talked some more when he'd helped her mail back the gifts.
"I am sorry, you know. I'm pretty crazy about you."
"Yeah, me too."
"Sorry or crazy?"
"Both."
"So what's his deal, do you know?"
"I know he's getting a divorce."
"And you, Anthony DiNozzo, are smiling! Get out of here!" she'd yelled at him without anger. "Take care of yourself. And Tony? I will always want you to do better."
She'd been right too, and he had her to thank in part that his center had held, that more of him hadn't unravelled as he'd begun the long march through his adulthood, this time at Gibbs' side. Wendy was part of the reason he'd been able to stay with Gibbs, not only because he loved the job and admired the man, but on a hope and a prayer.
He got up and opened a beer, the lists forgotten. He strolled around the ground floor of the home he shared with Jethro, taking in every sign that he was loved, feeling the lessons of his life converge in a rare moment. He was old enough now to understand these moments and let them happen. God knew they happened enough on cases, and wasn't he something of a case himself?
"Jeez, you're really down the rabbit-hole tonight, DiNozzo!"
He hadn't heard the door or Jethro's approach, but he was instantly smiling, so happy to hear Gibbs, to see him standing there with that smirk on his face, asking after Tony in his inimitable way before even putting his keys down.
"Yeah, but I'm good..."
It wasn't a lie, not between these walls, not with this man in front of him. He was getting out of that habit anyway. Gibbs knew how often Tony had to free fall, to let the wheel spin and the sparks fly where they may - illuminating here, fizzling there, sometimes just throwing off some heat. When he fell silent Gibbs rarely demanded he explain or snap out of it, really Tony had never understood why people did that, it was so crass...
Even before they'd gotten together, Gibbs would just come close to him, able to read his every energy, probably his thoughts, as if Tony were some kind of damn dictionary, or a coded message, or...
"Hey, I'm here."
"I know you are, thanks."
Jethro put his stuff away, and Tony sat back down and showed him his pile of lists. Gibbs sifted through them without any real interest but then he said quietly, "You want me to come to the party?"
Tony gaped for a second before he rolled out a shrug and a shy smile that threatened to twitch at the wrong moment. "Maybe. If you want. Sure."
Gibbs raised Tony's head for a quick kiss.
"Okay. Do you know what you're wearing?"
The curve of Tony's lips had its usual effect, along with the slight blush and the angle of his neck, because the sweetness that sometimes poured from DiNozzo was a secret pleasure that had no rival in Gibbs' life.
It was more obvious every day that Tony's expressive body language, his mobile face and eyes - well, all of it was very amped up at the office. At home the edges were softer, responses slower and more natural, and it hadn't yet ceased to amaze Gibbs when he didn't have to watch the usual stuff snap into place.
To see Tony, to see the real person, said all he needed to know about the faith they had placed in each other. And Tony's needs were nothing like those of the wives whose attention to Gibbs had seethed with unmet expectation.
Too many of the women in Gibbs' life had misunderstood the emotion he showed with his body, always wanting something else that was just beyond the edges of his capability. Tony was more trusting, more in tune with what he was getting and giving, both in and out of their physical relationship.
He guessed it was something about Tony being a guy, or maybe the women had hidden their wants from Gibbs because he'd done the same, but now "tired" meant "tired" - not "pissed." Too, they could make slow, meaningful love or just have sex because they were horny, and no one was going to make a federal case out of it.
And there was more. If Gibbs was brooding and Tony playful, it was reversed as often as not, and a frank sexuality helped keep them both in good humor at work. The first time Gibbs had called him "Tony the Tiger," Tony had sneaked a little box of Frosted Flakes into his desk, bringing about a rare blush in the bullpen. DiNozzo is going to fuck me silly was a blinding thought to have while on the phone with Vance.
But here it was just the two of them, and Gibb's eyes were still on Tony's mouth.
"C'mere."
Apparently Tony hadn't missed the moment of reverie or anything in it because he was already moving, first to his feet and then to his knees.
DiNozzo blowjobs were the best, and Gibbs let Tony take him, let him assert himself because he was so very, very good at this. From the second the younger man hugged him around his thighs to the moment he was exposed and hard under Tony's breath, Gibbs was one long shudder of anticipation for Tony loving him this way.
He always began by watching Tony's mouth - that mouth that was so much of who the man was, telling his thoughts by its movement or spilling over with an excess of verbiage. When Tony's lips closed over his dick however, it was action without thought. Nothing coy or calculated appeared in Tony's eyes when Gibbs tipped his head back by the hair.
Gibbs praised Tony, stroked his forehead while Tony used his mouth and did whatever he wanted to with his hands, getting closer to Gibbs' favorite part, the part when Tony lost control. At some point, naturally, Gibbs would get overwhelmed by the sensations Tony was causing him. His breathing, probably his scent, his attention would change, and Tony would be caught up in it in an instant, would start licking and sucking frantically with nothing but pure desire.
Gibbs was getting harder and he held Tony's face, as much to feel Tony as to let him know he wanted to thrust. He withdrew to push his cock a few times against Tony's mouth instead of into it, and he thrust up along his cheek until Tony was mewling and chasing him with his lips.
He kept his grip light on Tony's head, let him control the penetration as Gibbs began moving in the wetness and driving himself against Tony's tongue. He sped up to the sound of his own groans and Tony's low moans, punctuated here and there by an always-endearing squeak, then Tony was letting him all the way in, sucking him down his throat hard and without warning.
"Tony!" Gibbs shouted, and spasmed. He bent forward and bucked a few times with Tony's head clutched tightly to him, coming in hot waves as Tony hummed out a long sigh through his nose.
Tony released Gibbs' cock from his mouth but his hands were like iron on Gibbs' thighs. Gibbs brushed fingers over DiNozzo's rapidly blinking lashes and yanked him to his feet with a snarl. He kissed him deeply for a taste of them both, then he unzipped Tony and brought him off with firm strokes. Tony's arms were around his neck and the young man's heart hammered against his own, and Gibbs thought Tony nibbling his earlobe while they came down from orgasm was about as good as life got.
Work the next day was a cursory affair with no new cases and only a smattering of loose ends. Agents and other employees mixed more freely than usual, exchanging gifts and checking on who would be at Building 22 tonight for the Agency party, open to everyone at the Navy Yard.
Tony dropped off the usual candy, fruit baskets, and lingerie catalogues to favorite support staff, prepaid gift cards for low salaried workers and PWK's, or People With Kids, and an elaborate religious card to Clarence in Mail Services, who still owed him money. The MCRT would exchange gifts informally when they had time, and each would get something unique, as would Abby, Ducky, and Palmer.
He lit out early after a nod from Gibbs, and went home to get dressed. Everyone knew Tony would be at the party though they heard only distracted grunts from Gibbs when they tried to ask him. Tony didn't push it either. Gibbs always kept his promises, but Tony also wanted him to feel free to change his mind.
The longer he knew Gibbs, the more he tended to respect his priorities, and his feelings. He'd stopped teasing him about his marriages long ago. It wasn't very funny in the first place, and had started to feel like bad karma. Some failures weren't to be mocked. When he'd learned that not every Gibbs marriage had ended in divorce, he'd been horrified and saddened, and had apologized.
He'd given up on Jethro's wardrobe for a whole host of reasons, one being that he was Gibbs, another being that he'd gotten to know the man's body.
Tony alone knew what was under the infuriating layers, knew that the mysteries and contradictions of Jethro's physique were manifold. His straight posture didn't always conceal the long graceful curve of his upper back, but you didn't get the real effect until he was naked and you saw the tuck of his lower back give way to a gloriously round and full ass. His thigh muscles were more developed than loose pants suggested. His joints were clean, almost delicate, and though he cut a trim figure from any angle, up close his chest was broader and heavier than expected, his shoulders and biceps bigger than they looked in oversize sport coats.
At first this had driven Tony crazy. Once he had bought him some slightly lower-necked Tshirts, having developed a resentment for the ones that covered so much of his throat. He'd politely placed them in Gibbs' shirt drawer and they had just as politely remained there. To be fair, Gibbs usually looked fantastic in the basement, and Tony loved him too much now to want to change him. He was still handsome enough that he flustered men and women alike on a daily basis.
With a sigh Tony picked out his best light-hued jeans and a black dress shirt he would wear with the tails out. He showered, shaved, and got his hair just right to where it stuck out softly. He dressed and pulled on black leather boots that sported a single strap and buckle on the sides, then he made a drink and sat down to read, and to wait.
An hour later the door opened and he heard someone jog up the stairs. Gibbs came back down and Tony smiled to see that his eyes held no apology. He was going to the party. A few kisses were followed by a snack, and Tony was ready to go.
"Nope. Gotta shower and shave."
"Okay."
Tony had assumed Gibbs would stay in his work clothes, since he never stank, not even after a long day. He would put in a brief appearance for Tony's sake, then would leave him to get drunk with Abby and Palmer, crack wise with Ducky, flirt with passer-by, and try to make Ziva kiss McGee. Maybe a shower and shave meant Gibbs was up for a little more conviviality than usual. People would certainly be surprised to see him there.
When he heard Gibbs coming back down the stairs at a good clip, he rose to meet him, saw him round the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. He could not have been more surprised if the roof had collapsed, and words stuck in Tony's throat as his eyes went wide as oceans.
Tony had seen Gibbs. In fact that was what he'd been thinking about just now, before his brain flew the coop. He'd seen him angry, tired, sad, even depressed. He'd seen him in his work clothes, gym clothes, basement clothes, and court suit. Funeral suit too. He'd seen him in towering rages, or sleeping with the peace of a child. He'd seen him in the throes of passion. He'd seen him dripping wet, stepping naked and god-like from the shower. And happy, he'd seen him happy... but this...Tony had never seen Gibbs like this.
His boss, best friend, and lover - his man - was standing in front of him in pressed dark jeans that fit him so perfectly Tony wanted to cry. His light brown leather boots had a strong rounded toe and dark, heavy-tread soles. And laces, they had laces. Tony blinked and swallowed because that was only the beginning.
Jethro's hands, always clean, were tucked in his front pockets, but there was a dress watch on one wrist and his beautiful forearms...were bare. They were bare because his sleeves were neatly turned to three-quarter length, revealing his wrists and the hair on his arms.
The hair on his arms resembled the hair on his chest. Tony reminded himself to keep breathing. Gibbs wasn't wearing an undershirt. His chest hair was showing. Not only that, it was tastefully, barely perceptibly trimmed. Tony knew this because the first two buttons of the shirt were open, the two after the one on the collar, not including it. The tails of the dress-shirt were out.
The salt-and-pepper hair, mostly a brilliant silver, was total screaming sex the way it matched the hair on his head, which was arranged rather than plastered, to either side of his darker center-line part. His brows were at their normal peaked angle, but smoothed. The skin of his face looked more toned than usual. Tony stifled a gasp - he hadn't known Gibbs to be aware of this level of grooming.
The calm chin sat above the beautiful, visible neck, above the beautiful chest... but his face, Jethro's beloved face... held the very best half-smile in the whole Gibbs repertoire, and Tony knew them all. It was as warm as his eyes, alive and sparkling blue. And the shirt? Was white.
When Tony found his voice all hell broke loose. He whooped and sputtered and turned around in circles, cursing and complimenting and celebrating. If he'd had a tail he'd have wagged himself into a dizzy faint as he grabbed Gibbs and spun him around, spun him through the whole room, then kissed him like it was the end of the world.
Gibbs finally calmed him by going for his coat and keys.
"Are you ready to do this?"
"Do this?" Tony replied with a laugh. "Go to a party?"
He saw the happy but odd look on Gibbs' face, and it hit him. He'd been so blown away by how good Gibbs looked, he hadn't thought further about the way he looked. He'd almost forgotten where they were going, that it was something Gibbs never did, that it was more than their own team on a workday. Tony sized him up again as he stood there, smirking.
Of course Gibbs didn't only look sharp. He didn't just look groomed and sexy, he looked HOT. Tony grinned a grin that threatened to never stop. Gibbs looked... perfectly, gorgeously... Abby would call it metro... but hell, he looked like a freaking gay Adonis.
Tony was glad he'd already dispensed with the wows and the omigods as he realized what Gibbs was doing, for him and for them.
"Jethro," he breathed into the suddenly still room.
Gibbs simply put both hands on Tony's shoulders and looked him in the eyes with that confidence that had always thrilled him to his bones.
"I love you so much, Tony."
Tony was irrepressible on the way to the Navy Yard. He started a conversation at every stoplight.
"Gibbs, do you know how cool this is going to be?"
And so forth... for miles. He was also staring holes in him. Gibbs thought maybe he should have made him drive, but then he saw the way he was tapping his foot, the way his legs wouldn't stay still.
When they finally parked, Tony was trying to arrange his features into some semblance of seriousness.
"All grown up now, DiNozzo?"
"Hey!" Tony feigned offense, but his leer was back. "Actually, I'm about as grown up as you can handle..."
Gibbs didn't deny it.
So Tony and Gibbs walked into Building 22. It was the biggest dining facility at the Yard, one of a few large spaces that wasn't a conference area or a museum. All attached Services were invited this year, with NCIS playing host, a change from previous years in which people had fended for themselves.
There were probably a hundred people there already, Christmas decor and food in abundance. Tony thrilled to the opportunity of seeing everyone dressed for an occasion rather than work, and his nerves were through the roof because of Gibbs.
He didn't often reflect on the very real differences between spiritual and physical love, but Tony did so now. Esteem, caring, attraction, friendship, lust - he knew all of them. He recognized in his daily life where they separated and where they overlapped. The points of intersection didn't confuse him anymore, and his friends and his boss were the reasons why.
With Gibbs it was all one thing, and Tony couldn't contain the pride he felt in being his SFA and so much more, in being here with Gibbs, who looked animated and relaxed, who had not yet left his side, and who was showing off his body - the body Tony loved with his entire soul.
He eagerly awaited the reaction, and it didn't disappoint.
Jethro looked ten years younger than the dour and imposing Agent Gibbs. He was smiling, and if not for Gibbs' unmistakeable looks and his tenure at the Agency, Tony doubted he'd be easily recognized, it was that dramatic.
That said, the white shirt and silver hair would have grabbed attention anywhere, and Tony lost count of the double and triple-takes as people began to recognize Gibbs.
Next came the audible stir, then the approaches and exclamations - everything from "Nice look" to "Holy shit!" to "Who are you and what have you done with Gibbs!"
Somewhat to Tony's surprise, Gibbs got into it. He joked around and grinned adorably as they moved through the party at as leisurely a pace as their coworkers would allow. He didn't wave people off or snort at them. He accepted flirting and compliments with good grace, and he looked to Tony again and again no matter where he was.
Knots of people whispered discreetly from time to time, and there were the expected grins, winks, and raised eyebrows as the sexy supervisory agent and his dark-clad second made the rounds. For anyone who still wasn't putting it together that the feared Jethro Gibbs had a boyfriend and that his boyfriend was the equally legendary Tony DiNozzo, it was at least clear that they were the two hottest men in the room.
Tony was feeling pretty fantastic for his part, and just when he thought it couldn't be going any better, he found himself arm-in-arm with Abby and Ziva. McGee stood facing him, and Ducky and Jimmy approached to catch him up in a circle of smiles.
His team.
Astonishingly no one said a word for about a full minute. Palmer beamed. Ducky winked then nodded sagely and with great dignity. Probie's eyes were filled with friendship, and may have been a little moist.
"Nice going, bro."
He felt an elbow to his ribs and barked out a laugh, turning to face and then to hug Ziva, whose dark soulful eyes regarded him with the pride and respect she so carefully reserved when they were screwing around in the bullpen.
And Abby. The radiance in Abby's eyes, the smile that was ecstatic and tender at once - well, her eyes crinkled and then grew round, and Tony knew, because he knew her, that she was going to start sobbing. He rolled his own eyes at her just as her gaze settled knowingly.
"You made it," she said.
"And you didn't think I was coming."
Gibbs had snuck up behind him for the millionth time, and the rumble near Tony's ear was accompanied by a brush of fingers at his waist. He knew by the look on Abby's face that Gibbs was smiling.
Abby did cry then, her smooth, happy face adorned by clear, crystalline tears as she produced two Santa hats from somewhere, and taking pride of place stepped forward and put them on Gibbs and Tony. They weren't the crappy kind either, not paper or felt but soft plush with wide fuzzy brims that settled comfortably over the ears.
She stepped back, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Okay, people, snap to it! We've got drinking to do!"
When it came time for pictures, Tony sighed and looked at Jethro significantly as once again, no one had to assemble Team Gibbs. They took their places with their two leaders at the center, Tony and Gibbs standing behind them as they stood together.
A second picture was made for each team with Director Vance solemnly shaking the hand of the Lead, but in theirs he was smiling.
They left for home a half-hour before midnight, the streets quiet under a light snowfall. They chatted about the party, excitement having been replaced by a comfortable peace of mind. It was obvious that Tony was happy, and Gibbs was too as he looked around his city and held his lover's hand in the car.
When they got inside and got out of their coats he saw Tony looking at him deeply, and if he was prepared to have the younger man jump his bones, he saw instead that DiNozzo was looking a little overwhelmed.
Doing what needed to be done, doing what he always did, Gibbs took Tony into the center of the living room and enfolded him in a tight hug, rocking gently until both were giggling, and warm.
"You're beautiful, you know that?" he asked the younger man, who answered with a muffled "Yeah."
Tony's face was in his neck. Gibbs stroked his hair and heard him whisper.
"Did you ever dream we'd get this far, Gibbs?"
He drew back and gave Tony a long look.
"Was never a dream DiNozzo."
Gibbs held him there at a short distance and he smiled at him, caring only about the expression on Tony's face - flushed with the emotions of the day, amused and grateful, serene and secure, joyful and triumphant.
They kissed, and it was Christmas.
The End.