Gibbs is finally starting to think that things are back to normal with his team by the time the week is almost over. By team, of course, he means Tony, and to a certain degree McGee, and mostly not Ziva because when things are wrong with Ziva she's a big enough girl to take care of her own problems. In fact, he's beginning to think that everything is shaping up rather nicely, and a promising weekend of relaxation and working on his boat is just six short hours away when he gets the call from Ducky that dooms them all to working beyond the scope of late and well into the timeframe of ludicrous. Naturally, Thursday's accidental suicide turns out to be Friday's malicious homicide, this being realized only after they find the body of the second man and Ducky is able to put two and two together.
They actually manage to bring their killer in around two in the morning and throw him in a holding cell to wait for Monday to roll around. He's off the street and questioning and the brunt of the paper work can wait until the work week. Gibbs sends his very tired, very grumpy team home with a promise that he'll fill out the stuff that can't wait on his own. They did most of the hunting down, anyhow, and he's not really craving sleep as much as he should be. So much for starting the weekend bright and early Saturday morning. More like ending it bright and early.
Not even DiNozzo argues as he and Ziva trudge wearily towards the mercy of the elevator. They're practically leaning on each other, though Gibbs knows Ziva is mostly show. She'll probably end up driving Tony home, and Gibbs wonders why McGee isn't the one who Tony's falling asleep on.
His question is answered when he looks up from accused murderer holding bullshit form 14b or whatever it is he has to fill out before he finally runs out of steam. McGee is standing in front of his desk, hands clasped awkwardly behind his back, shifting from foot to foot. Dark circles are highlighting his eyes, and he looks paler than usual, which is a feat for McGee.
Gibbs lets him stand there until he finishes filling out his form before he stashes his pen in his desk and looks up again. "Yeah, McGee?"
McGee must have fallen asleep on his feet, because he startles in a highly unbecoming way that almost lands his ass on the floor. He shakes his head hard, and offers a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Boss. Bad night and a long day is a bad combination."
Gibbs gives him a look that he hopes conveys something along the lines of 'Life story not necessary,' and McGee clears his throat. "Yeah, sorry, not important," he amends. "I was just wondering. Uh."
Gibbs is tired, even if he knows he won't be sleeping anytime soon. His body is tired. His mind is tired. His eyes are tired, and if he has to sit here staring at the walls of NCIS until McGee finds it in him to spill whatever problem has him staying late – early – to chat Gibbs up, he might just eat his own gun. He thought they were getting somewhere confrontation wise with those emails earlier this week. Apparently he thought wrong.
"And here I thought we were making progress," he interrupts, and McGee lets his mouth open and close a couple times like a confused, sleepy fish, before he twists his mouth up in a pout that is very much McGee. Naturally, it's only because it's way too late that Gibbs lets himself think it's almost endearing.
"Come again?" McGee asks, and Gibbs just smiles and shakes his head.
"Never mind, McGee. Just spit it out, please, so we can both go home."
McGee nods. "Yeah. That. Sorry – I just – oh, screw it. Do you want to come over for movie night tomorrow?" he finally asks, and Gibbs has to admit that he's a little taken aback by the sudden and very much unexpected offer.
"To Tony's, I mean," he amends quickly, as if that were supposed to make everything suddenly clearer.
He pauses for a second, and Gibbs is about to open his mouth to answer when McGee starts up again. "Wait," he says. "Before you say no. It would really mean a lot to Tony. Whatever you said to him Monday cheered him up, but he's been pretty off lately, you know? Of course you know, you're Gibbs. And it's getting worse, whatever it is. And I'm really getting worried about him, and I'm not sure what to do. I've never dealt with this sort of thing before. I just-"
He takes a breath. Gibbs knows McGee must be half out of it from lack of sleep if he's rambling like this to him of all people. He tries again to answer, and almost laughs when McGee cuts him off again. Almost. It's still quarter 'til three in the morning, after all, and he's still sitting here listening to McGee channel DiNozzo when he should be at home in bed.
"Deliverance – the movie, I mean. Apparently it's a sin that I've never seen it -- and there'll be beer. And pizza."
"You don't have to bribe me, McGee," Gibbs finally gets in. "I'll be there. Now go home. You sound like Tony."
McGee looks so relieved that Gibbs has to worry just how bad things are with DiNozzo. And wonder just how close he and McGee are getting that McGee is having an anxiety attack bad enough to solicit Gibbs' attention. It doesn't matter. McGee came to him for help, and he'd have helped even if Tony hadn't been involved, but the fact that he is just makes Gibbs anticipate the night a little more.
McGee nods again. "Sure. Yeah," he grins. "God, home sounds good. See you tonight, Boss. Movie starts at eight."
Gibbs just smiles his assent and waits until McGee has caught the elevator down before he stands up to do the same. He wants to think, and doesn't want to be stuck in a metal box with one of people he needs to think about. That, and it honestly takes a minute to work up the energy to stand up at all. His back creaks in protest and he growls softly to himself. Getting too damn old for this. Maybe he should have stayed in Mexico.
He shakes his head at that thought as he hits the button to head down and towards the sanctuary of his bed. No. Shouldn't have stayed in Mexico. If there's one thing he can be sure of, it's that he belongs here. He's got too much invested in this team of his that it is slowly spiraling into the realm of much more than just a team. He's probably getting too close to them all, really, but he can't bring himself to care. It's actually kind of nice to have people to worry about again.
That night he shows up at Tony's gloriously well rested after sleeping until well past noon, a six pack of beer under one arm. It's McGee that opens the door in sweat pants and an old t-shirt, and Gibbs doesn't even try to assume anymore that there isn't something more between his two agents. He finds that it doesn't even bother him. More than doesn't bother him. Which does kind of bother him, that being the fact that he's putting so much thought into this.
He holds up the beer. "Wouldn't want to run out," he jokes, and McGee holds the door open for him to step inside.
He hands the beer to McGee to hold while he slips out of his jacket, then takes it back to stash it in Tony's fridge. It's worryingly empty, just a couple condiment bottles, some take out containers and the beer that McGee has assumedly supplied. Gibbs pretends not to notice and stashes his contribution next to the Corona.
He claps McGee on the back on his way towards the living room, lets his hand slide up to squeeze reassuringly at the back of his neck, something he'd never ever do at work, but it seems appropriate. McGee is just standing there, looking worried, and Gibbs feels the urge to fix everything well up frighteningly quick in the pit of his stomach. McGee looks a little shocked at the touch, but he doesn't flinch or pull away or mention it at all (thank God) and Gibbs shifts by him to drop down on the couch next to Tony, who's fiddling with the remote.
Tony actually looks shocked to see him, and Gibbs guesses that McGee didn't tell him they were having company. Gibbs pretends to ignore this as well, but files it away with empty fridge and McGee in sweatpants in the back of his head in what he is deeming his mental 'figure up what's eating at DiNozzo' file.
"So, dueling banjos, huh?" Gibbs says, eyes locked on the title screen of the DVD that's already been stuck in the player.
Tony rolls with it like Gibbs assumed he would. DiNozzo may act dense sometimes, but he's definitely not the disillusioned ex-college frat boy people like to think he is. Well, maybe sometimes he is. But mostly, DiNozzo is just DiNozzo. Goofy to a point, constantly flirtatious, and almost always hyper aware of his surroundings. Gibbs thinks that sometimes he just doesn't know how to process all the information that he takes in.
Right now, though, Tony is in his zone. He's on his own turf, about to watch a movie he can almost certainly recite along with the actors, and he's relaxing into his own couch, smack dab in the middle. He looks sinfully aware of himself in an Ohio State jersey that no doubt has 'DiNozzo' emblazoned across the back and old worn out jeans. It's a side of Tony that he rarely shows at work. He doesn't have to be the center of attention, doesn't need it like he does when they're all working a case, but Gibbs knows he will be all the same.
"Pizza?" Gibbs asks, and Tony grins.
"McTakeOut!" he shouts over the back of the couch, and Gibbs finally realizes that McGee has disappeared. "When's the pizza gonna get here? Your film education can't wait forever."
McGee comes back into the room, eyes rolling. "Yeah, yeah DiNozzo. Should be here any second now."
The doorbell rings and Tony gives McGee a look of awe. "You are a God among men, Probie. Truly. Did you know he was psychic, Boss? We could use that at work, I bet."
"Shut up, Tony. You're not funny," McGee chides, but he's smiling all the same as he grabs his wallet off the side table and heads to the door.
Gibbs brings his hand into contact with the back of Tony's head, lighter than usual. "Seriously, DiNozzo."
When Tony presses back into the touch Gibbs lets his hand drop to the back of Tony's neck to stroke gently with his thumb. McGee sets the pizza down in front of them a moment later, and Gibbs knows he's giving him a side long glance as Gibbs pulls his hand away. Tony doesn't seem to notice anything at all, distracted by the glorious offering McGee has set before him.
"Yes," he moans. "Double cheese, triple meat, quadruple heaven. Most excellent."
Gibbs snorts. "Are you just going to stare at it, Keanu?"
Tony shoots him a grin. "I'm telling you, it was his only good role. Neo's got nothing on Ted. "
"I have no idea what you two are talking about, but I'm going to ignore you and eat," McGee says as he reaches for the box and flips the lid back.
Gibbs has to agree; if the aroma of crisp baked crust and extra pepperoni is anything to judge by, McGee's got the right idea. They all dig in and Tony finally hits play on the remote, sinking back into the couch and placing his sock clad feet precariously close to an open beer on the coffee table. Gibbs looks over him to McGee, who has taken way too big of a bite and is trying not to laugh with a full mouth at the look of horror that Gibbs is sending his way. Over all, it's shaping up to be a pretty decent night.
Things turn a little weird half way through their second movie – From Russia with Love at Tony's insistence. For someone who was particularly insistent on the perusal of the acting talent of Sean Connery, he is very much asleep. Gibbs shoots McGee a look over the slumbering Tony, and McGee just shrugs. "Hasn't been sleeping well," he explains.
"Like you haven't been sleeping well?"
"Eh. Kind of. More like, I haven't been sleeping well because he hasn't," McGee has looked away from Gibbs and back at the movie, but Gibbs knows it's only because he can't admit all this while looking Gibbs in the eye.
"Yeah, figured as much," Gibbs says, and he catches the quick, scared glance that McGee sends his way before training his eyes back on Connery. "What's got him sleeping so bad?"
McGee licks his lips and swallows, and for a minute Gibbs doesn't think he's going to answer. "I'm… not sure. He won't talk about it. Something from when he was on the Seahawk, I think."
Gibbs grimaces. He hates thinking about when he was without his team and stuck with the bumbling trio of Langer, Lee and Keating. He really hates to think that something might have happened to them during that time, and all because Vance didn't have the balls to come out and say he was trying to vet a leak. He knows it was hardest on Tony, but he figured it was just being cooped up on a ship and having to corral way too many sailors who didn't want to be corralled, and maybe the lack of female companionship. Now, though, he can't help but think he should have seen there was something else there ages ago.
Tony is twitching lightly in his sleep, and McGee is looking more lost than Gibbs has ever seen him. It's actually almost heartbreaking, and he sighs, reaches for the remote and hits the power button. The last thing he wants is a half drunk McGee crying on the couch with a nightmare addled Tony. Gibbs reaches across Tony's shaking form and threads his hand through McGee's hair – much softer than he would have imagined for someone that slicks it back so tight every morning – and tugs him in closer. Tony calms down a little at the contact, McGee pressing up against his side, and Gibbs is amazed that McGee looks so shocked. Maybe they aren't as close as Gibbs had thought.
"It's going to be OK, McGee," Gibbs says, voice soft so he doesn't wake Tony from his fitful slumber; If the rings that are still under McGee's eyes are any indication, any sleep is good sleep for the both of them. "Tony's going to be OK. You're going to be OK. I don't know what exactly this thing between you two is, but I know it's a good thing, and it's going to be OK, too."
McGee nods almost robotically, his eyes unfocused, flicking back and forth from Tony to Gibbs. His tongue darts out to lick at his lips again before he worries the bottom one with his teeth. Gibbs knows that look. He's contemplating something, letting what Gibbs said sink in and weighing consequences. Gibbs finds out what for a moment later when McGee leans in a little further and brushes his mouth over Gibbs' own just barely and pulls back.
Gibbs isn't sure what to do, what he's supposed to say, if he's supposed to politely remind McGee that he's in a relationship (or relationship like thing) or what when he feels more than hears Tony's breath hitch beneath him. Then he knows. Knows that Tony's been awake much longer than he thought, and that the invitation McGee just extended him wasn't just an invitation from McGee. He glances down to catch Tony's half lidded stare, lips just barely parted, pupils dilated. He looks back up at McGee, who's looking a little bit scared, but there's no regret in that narrowed gaze, blue eyes daring.
Yeah, he thinks as he lets himself fall back to his proper position on the couch, head hitting the plush back and eyes squinting shut. Things just took a turn down what the fuck lane, and he's not sure if he'll be able to find the exit to bail. He's not even sure he wants to.