Gibbs slammed his way back into the house. His house—because he would never share it with Tony again. He thought back to that first night together, before they had even taken off a shirt, and Gibbs had made it clear he wanted an exclusive relationship. Tony had agreed easily, and Gibbs had believed him.
There was your first mistake, Agent Gibbs, he berated himself as he ignored the boat and the basement and went for a hot shower instead. You ignored facts… evidence, even. Tony's always been a player, and while you knew some of those Danielles were actually Daniels, you knew he wasn't lying about the number of those conquests.
Gibbs turned his face up to the near-scalding spray and tried to let the water wash the thoughts out of his mind. But instead of feeling the hot liquid sluice over his body, all he could feel were Tony's hands.
The last time we were in this shower…
Gibbs slapped the faucet off with a low growl, his eyes landing on the expensive shampoo Tony had slowly gotten him hooked on. The scent was so light it was barely there, indescribable really. But as Gibbs stared at the bottle, he could smell nothing but Tony, and he drew back and punched the tile wall as hard as he could. Pain raced up his arm, but it dulled in comparison to gaping hole in his chest.
So that's why he never let me in. There wasn't enough room for me and his other lovers. Gibbs thought back to the many brush-offs he had received while trying to piece together what exactly had happened between Tony and his partner Jason. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, but he knew it wasn't true. Shannon—and moreso Kelly's birth—had taught him that it was necessary to be able to share pain before being able to share real joy.
If Tony didn't trust him with his past hurts, how could he ever trust Gibbs with his happiness?
Speaking of hurts, Gibbs thought, looking down at bruised knuckles and feeling lucky he hadn't broken anything. He knew the pain of broken bones. It shouldn't have shocked him that broken hearts hurt this much worse. Shannon and Kelly had about broken him, but theirs was not a deliberate betrayal.
Gibbs clenched his injured hand into a fist, feeling his skin stretching over swollen joints, and he concentrated on the burning pain. He closed his eyes and let his head drop, only to have the backs of his eyelids light up with images of Tony's smile, his green eyes dancing as he teased about the ratty couch or made suggestions for vacations they could sneak off to together.
Gibbs made his way into the bedroom, but he stopped short at the sight of the rumpled comforter and haphazardly thrown pillows. Tony had been the last one out that morning, and Gibbs felt physically sick at the thought of trying to sleep there without his lover's body wrapped around his. He turned with a snort of disgust, thinking he might have to move this time because he was running out of bedrooms to turn into lonely storage bays filled with broken futures.
He thought about going down to the boat but dismissed the idea quickly because he didn't want to wake up under it. He had enough pains to deal with. So he sank onto the couch—the one Tony had begged, pleaded, ranted and cajoled over—and after a long, long while, he fell into a fitful sleep.
It was no small wonder that he dreamed of Tony.
"You," Tony said from the couch, looking up at Gibbs with wanton eyes.
Gibbs just stood there, knowing he should have been expecting this. He should have figured out what he wanted before inviting Tony to stay with him after his agent had flat-out told him how he figured into his dreams. But honestly, Gibbs had figured he would have more time, considering Tony could barely move without pain. And Tony was good at masking pain. But the Buick was apparently better at inflicting it.
He should have known it would take more than a run-in with a two-ton vehicle to derail Tony's thoughts from sex.
Gibbs watched panic evict the lust from Tony's eyes. "Oh shit, Boss," he gasped, throwing the heating pad off him and fighting his various aches to stand, if a bit shakily. "I thought you wanted… And you were being so nice at the hospital… But it was because you were glad I wasn't dead or something, right? Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I'll leave—"
"Hey," Gibbs said, grabbing a rather unsteady Tony by his left elbow and right shoulder to avoid the worst of the bruising and grated skin. "You're not going anywhere. And I…"
Tony swallowed hard, blinking away dizziness. "Now's not such a good time to leave me hanging, Boss." He brought up a hand to grab Gibbs' arm to keep from falling over. "I mean that in a lot of ways."
Gibbs could feel the tension in the muscles quivering under his hands. Standing face to face with Tony, their bodies only inches apart as Gibbs held on to him to keep him upright, Gibbs felt a little thrill race through him. "You should stop calling me 'Boss' right now."
Panic erupted in green eyes and Tony tried to pull away.
"I'd headslap you if I didn't think you'd fall over right now," Gibbs said wryly, pulling Tony closer. "It's not because you're fired. It's because I'd feel awkward doing this."
Gibbs ignored his nervousness, his inexperience with men, the fact that it was his subordinate trembling against his body. He leaned in and planted a kiss firmly on Tony's lips, his breath puffing out softly in a half-laugh as Tony gave a muted squeak of surprise. Gibbs was not nearly as surprised when Tony deepened the kiss, his hands sliding around and up Gibbs' back. He returned the gesture, his hands moving over Tony's shoulders as he lost himself in the younger man's mouth, finally admitting to himself that he had wondered a time or two what this would feel like.
"Shit!"
Tony backed out of the embrace, wincing and making Gibbs realize he had stroked a hand over the road rash on Tony's left shoulder.
He held up his hands. "Tony, I'm so sorry."
Tony drew a shaky breath and groaned softly as he eased his battered body back onto the couch. He looked up at Gibbs. "Whoa, there. Rule No. 6."
Gibbs just gave him a look. "I'm not exactly sure how this is going to work," he admitted, "but work rules can stay at work."
"This?" Tony asked, a million questions burning in his eyes.
Gibbs answered as many as he could in his usual brief style. "I want you, too, Tony."
Tony's grin was short-lived and he looked nervously at his badge and gun, still lying where he had tossed them upon entering the house after the trip to the hospital. "And Rule No. 12?"
Gibbs didn't need to think about it. It was just the kind of man he was: Once he decided he was going to go for something, he didn't stop until he got it. "Isn't that never date a wom—" he paused, shook his head, "never date anyone who eats more than you?"
Tony smiled, but he still studied Gibbs' face intently. "You know we can't both obey that rule, right?"
"Are you trying to be difficult?" Gibbs asked with an exasperated sigh. And a smile.
But Tony's expression was still serious. "I'm a difficult person, Gibbs," he said quietly.
"And I'm easy?" Gibbs asked, slightly incredulous.
Tony's smile returned, slowly. "I did just proposition you this morning," he said slyly. "And now here we are. You're ready to jump my bones right now."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Your bones don't need anything but rest right now," he said, his eyes dropping to the multicolored mess of Tony's thigh.
"I'm fine," Tony said, getting slowly to his feet. He held out his hands and gave a stiff little bow. "See?"
"What I see is someone who recently got wrecked by a car," Gibbs said, sliding his hand under Tony's unscathed left elbow. "Let's get you to bed."
The grin was expected—but it still had Gibbs grinning just as brightly, even though he tried to hide it.
"I thought you'd never ask."
"Hold still a minute," Gibbs said, letting go of Tony and giving him a once-over before lightly smacking the back of his head. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't concussed."
"I'm not, you know," Tony said seriously. "I want this."
Gibbs nodded and helped him the rest of the way to the bedroom, feeling a little shiver of both excitement and trepidation as Tony sat on the edge of the bed and started to pull off his shirt.
"Hey," Gibbs said, a hand on Tony's wrist to stop the motion. He swallowed and looked away. "If we do this…" He shook his head and then met Tony's eyes. "I don't share, Tony. If you're mine, you're only mine. And if you can't do that, you need to tell me now."
Tony smiled. "I like the sound of that. Being yours."
"Tony," Gibbs warned. "Say it."
"I'm yours," Tony said, green eyes sincere—and happy. "Only yours."
Gibbs awoke with a growl—and images of Tony's body, perfect except for the painful evidence of the accident. The rest of that night played out again in Gibbs' mind as he forced himself up from the couch—ignoring the ache in his side from a damaged spring poking him—and made coffee even though it was 0400. He knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep.
Certainly not while remembering helping Tony out of his clothes, forcing himself to be gentle when he really wanted to rip them off so he could explore his new lover's body unhindered.
Gibbs downed half a cup of the scalding liquid in one gulp, hoping the burn would drown the rest of his pain. It did nothing but ignite his rage at Tony's betrayal, but a quick glance at his swollen knuckles said he wouldn't be punching anything right then. The bruising there had Gibbs thinking of the discolorations on Tony's body that night, and his anger melted away as he remembered watching Tony ease himself back against the pillows, a scraped hand on his bruised hip and pain written in every line of his face.
Gibbs noted the grimace and left his shorts on as he turned out the light and slid into bed beside Tony.
"Uh, Gibbs? I know you're new at this, but you have to be naked for gay sex, too."
Gibbs laughed out loud and was glad for the darkness that masked his blush. "No one's having any sex tonight."
"But—"
"But nothing, Tony," Gibbs said firmly—but it was not a work-like tone. It was gentle. "You're in pain. And I'd rather not start this by hurting you."
"Oh," Tony said, considering that. "Well, pain or no pain, I'll probably end up cuddling. I'm kind of a cuddler, you know."
"Why am I not surprised?" Gibbs said, smiling in the darkness and shifting so Tony could nestle against his side. He suddenly stopped wondering if this should feel wrong or awkward or dangerous, and he gave himself over to the knowledge that it just felt right. He let his injured partner settle in before draping a careful arm over him. "Okay?" Gibbs asked, still worried about hurting him.
"Amazing," Tony said, sounding worried about nothing at all.
Gibbs dropped his empty coffee cup into the sink with a clatter, not worried at all about whether it shattered. He knew he had to pull his head out of the past if he was going to make it through the day. For the first time in a long time, he thought about calling in, telling the team to do without him so he wouldn't have to face Tony.
It was an odd, unsettling feeling, especially since he had been spending nearly every moment with the man of late. Tony had gone to a three-day security conference a few weeks ago, and Gibbs remembered practically counting the hours until he returned, wondering if he had gone crazy—or was simply in love again. It was the latter, he realized, and for the first real time since Shannon. So now, it was strange to be thinking the opposite, dreading the moment when he laid eyes on Tony again.
