G slept most of the way back to the hotel, only waking when Deeks slowed to turn into the parking lot.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Deeks said. "Have a good nap?"

"Good enough." G straightened in his seat, stretched as far as the cramped vehicle would allow. "I didn't even ask before - you good?"

"All I had to do was liaise with a few DEA jackasses," Deeks said. "Who, at least, didn't blow your or DiNozzo's covers. I'm good. You?"

"Aside from being used by someone I'd called my partner? Peachy."

Thankfully, Deeks had known him long enough to take his sarcasm in stride and simply parked the car.

G climbed out of the car and followed Deeks toward the hotel entrance. He stopped halfway there.

"Keys."

"Huh?" Deeks turned back to look at him.

"Keys." G held out his hand.

"Look, Callen - you were just sleeping, and you were practically dead on your feet when we left the Navy Yard -"

"And I've slept since then," G said. "Enough to keep me going another few hours."

Deeks' eyebrows shot up. "A few hours? Dude, you'll be lucky to make it to your room before you collapse."

G chuckled. "Sam hasn't bitched to you yet about how little I sleep? I'm fine. Just want to go see a friend for a bit before we go back."

Deeks studied him for a long moment, and G knew he was going to give in. He did, with a sigh. "Fine. Take the keys. But if you fall asleep at the wheel, I'm not responsible."

G caught the keys Deeks tossed to him. "Thanks. See you in the morning."

"You, too - if you live through it."

Then Deeks was gone and G was climbing into the car on the driver's side.

His memory of the route to Gibbs' house was fairly clear, but G programmed the address into his GPS just to be sure, and twenty minutes after he'd left the hotel parking lot, he pulled into Gibbs' driveway.

The door was unlocked, as he'd expected, and G let himself in. He didn't try to conceal his presence as he crossed to the basement door.

It was closed, but a sliver of light gleamed beneath it, so he pushed the door open and started down the stairs.

"Wasn't expecting you tonight." Gibbs' voice cut through the dimness of the basement.

Well, dimness wasn't the right word. An overhead bulb lit a work area and threw the rest of the basement into long odd shadows. G supposed it was enough light for what his friend was doing.

"Yeah, well, you made it sound like we're debriefing and leaving, and not necessarily in that order." G sat on the bottom step. "How many boats is this now?"

"Third one." Gibbs took a board from a … steam machine? G didn't know what it was called, but it apparently made boards somewhat flexible, judging by how Gibbs fitted it to the frame.

"One for each wife?"

"Something like that." Gibbs pulled a hammer from his belt, started pounding the board tight - or so G assumed, given that his knowledge of boat building was limited to whatever Gibbs had told him over the years.

When Gibbs was done, he straightened and looked at G. "What really brought you to Washington, Callen?"

It was a probing question, testing. G decided to probe back. "Vance didn't tell you?"

Gibbs snorted and reached for the bottle of bourbon on his workbench, and then pulled two glass jars from the bench and dumped their contents.

As he poured two fingers for each of them, Gibbs said, "All he'd say is that it was a personnel matter."

Gibbs crossed toward G, and he rose to meet the other man and accept one of the drinks.

"Must've been a hell of a personnel matter to drag you cross country." Gibbs raised his jar, and G tapped his against it.

"It was." G took a sip of the bourbon, savoring the burn down his throat. He might always prefer a good craft beer, but despite what Sam might occasionally say, he could appreciate quality alcohol in any of its forms.

"But it's Vance's place to bring it up," G added. "I just came by to spend some time with an old friend. If you're busy, I'll be on my way."

Gibbs regarded him for a long moment. Then, "Wanna learn how to build a boat?"

G pretended to debate the question, then shrugged. "Why not? Never know when it might come in handy."

G finally made his way back to the hotel around four a.m. He figured he had enough time for a catnap before meeting Deeks for breakfast and pulled the covers off the bed onto the floor before lying down.

No matter how much Sam might tease him for not having a bed, the truth was he found most of them too soft and so he tossed and turned even more than he usually did.

A psychologist with less understanding of him than Nate Getz had might suggest that G found floors, unlike beds, stable, and that his childhood made him seek stability in odd forms.

More than one had, in fact, suggested that very thing, only to be met with G's amused snort and counter that sleeping on the floor had some significant health benefits. A handful of sessions had ended right there as the licensed health professionals (mental health, but still…) dove for their computers to confirm or deny G's assertions.

Still, even G didn't sleep on a bare concrete floor, which is where he'd left Gibbs.

G pulled off his outer clothes, rested his service weapon on the floor beside him, and sank to the pile of blankets he'd made, laying back with his head on the single pillow he'd pulled from the bed with the covers.

His mind was still too active for sleep, reviewing his conversation with Gibbs - or, more accurately, lack of conversation with Gibbs. Why hadn't he just said what was on his mind? Gibbs appreciated plain speaking, but still G held back.

He wasn't afraid of confrontation… or maybe he was. Maybe he was afraid of confronting one of the few friends he had, and maybe losing that friend.

The more G turned that thought over in his mind, the more he realized that it was, if not entirely true, at least partially true. Vance was enough of a politician that he'd raise the issue in general terms, not accusing anyone in particular - even if, a voice inside G's head suggested, it might be best if Vance did accuse one person - the source of the problem - in particular.

Or maybe, a more cynical voice added, he was afraid that Vance wouldn't raise the issue at all, and if that were the case and G had spoken directly to Gibbs, G would have broken a friendship for nothing.

He hated the nights when he realized he was a coward.

G was still turning the situation, and what he could do about it, over in his mind when sleep finally claimed him.

A knock on the hotel room door woke him. He was on his feet, weapon in hand, before realization hit.

I can't have slept so late that Housekeeping's here. And bad guys don't knock.

Still, he kept his weapon in his hand as he crossed to the door and looked through the peephole.

With a sigh, he opened the door a crack. "Deeks?"

"Hey, yeah." The other man smiled brightly. For all that he'd complained about the time difference yesterday, he was chipper this morning. "DiNozzo offered to buy us breakfast. You in?"

"When?"

"Eight, so we have time to eat before debriefing."

A surreptitious glance at his watch told him it was almost eight already.

"Thanks for the notice," G grumbled. "I'll be out in five."

"I can wait here." Deeks offered, and for a moment G debated shutting the door in his face just on principle, but then he stepped back and let the other man in.

Five minutes later - two of which involved running his shaver over his face while the shower ran warm - he and Deeks were closing the door behind them.

"How do you even get clean with a shower that short?" Deeks demanded.

"Efficiency," G replied.

"Showers aren't for efficiency," Deeks said. "They're for -"

"I do not want to know what you think showers are for," G said. "Seriously. That's between you and Kensi."

He had to turn away from Deeks' too-wide grin.

"Hey, speaking of that, sort of," Deeks began as the elevator doors closed and he punched the button for the lobby floor. "None of you have given me a shovel talk about her."

G quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you want Sam to threaten you with bodily harm?"

"No, not particularly. I mean, I already know what that feels like, since the Janklow case. Just wondering why."

"Two reasons," G said. "First, Kensi will kill you herself. We'll be lucky to find pieces of you."

The elevator came to a stop as Deeks asked, "The second?"

"You wouldn't be much of a detective if you hadn't already figured it out." G gave him his most charming grin, then stepped off the elevator before Deeks could reply.