Update 4/10/17 - Fixed possessives (So easy to mix up Gibbs and Gibbs' for me!) I think and a few other things. Feel free to write me if you see more. Thanks. Squares
April 9, 2017
I know some time has passed. Perhaps too much time has passed for me to be certain anyone will read, but the story is still alive for me. As a reader, I know well the disappointment of an unfinished story, and so as a writer, I can only reassure as much as anyone can who lives in the world and doesn't know what will happen next, that endings are as important to me as beginnings.
MW has left NCIS and that final ep has aired. Today I watched Requiem. After I worked, on a Sunday. Messes with my head, the kind of work I do. I have good work to do, this isn't me asking for sympathy, but damn I am having to work hard to be a writer too.
Anyway, this is what I have to say just now, on behalf of Tony and Gibbs.
Love.
M.
Gibbs didn't know what he expected. Two men, set in their ways. Him because of his age and Tony because of how...particular he was about things. If he had thought about it, Gibbs would have figured that they'd live apart, like couples having separate beds or rooms, but instead, him in his house and Tony at his apartment. Or maybe eventually they'd...what?...get a house or something together? Inconceivable really to think of them-Tony and him-as...uh...lovers...who picked out china and crap like that. He didn't pick out china with his wives so he didn't know why he'd start now but even though Tony was more...well, particular about things...he wasn't the girl in this whatever it was they were doing and didn't seem really any more likely to pick out china. He'd just have someone pick it out for him.
Whenever Gibbs tried to think about them in other people's' terms like this, his head hurt and he felt like shooting something.
So he didn't. Think about it, that is.
But he did notice that if he just focused on Tony, on them , day after day, his head didn't hurt.
And the curious unwinding that began that night in his basement continued.
One afternoon a few months after they were... together ... Gibbs just stood in his dining room, clear yellow light pouring in from the window behind him, beer held loosely in his hand, him having changed into jeans and a sweatshirt when he got home. If he looked to the left, he could see the kitchen; to the right, the living room. The place smelled clean, like lemon and some sort of cleaner. Tony's cleaning service-a real nice lady named Bea-came on Thursdays now.
His bike was in the shed instead of the entryway. The ironing board was in the closet instead of permanently set up in the living room, Bea having ironed all his shirts at once instead of one a day like he did. His old coffee table had been replaced by a cedar chest the same height but his blankets and pillows fit inside. Tony'd added a tv, of course, but it was in a wooden chest that closed up.
As for china, Tony hadn't replaced any except for filling a shelf in the kitchen with fancy wine glasses. Gibbs caught Tony, sometimes, standing with a plate in his hands, or one of the mugs he'd had forever, looking at it like he was looking for clues. Gibbs figured he'd get around to asking what he wanted to know someday. How long? Which wife?
Tony was a big guy and Gibbs was more aware than he ever had been of that. Tony liked to be on top, riding him, or more rarely, fucking him, and the sweaty mat of his chest hair, the thick column of his neck, were impressive as Tony leaned over him, catching his mouth when possible, licking his throat and nipping when it wasn't. They were even more impressive when he busted his nut, rode out his climax, stripes high up on Gibbs' chest or neck. But it was the soft, gasping, heavy, male weight of him on Gibbs after that Gibbs thought of when he watched Tony's rare silence, in his kitchen. In a suit, linebacker shoulders covered by Italian cloth, head bent for a moment over porcelain, the naked stripe of his neck making Gibbs want to taste the day's sweat and scent off the other man. Sometimes he wanted to just pull Tony down down down onto him as if they had already gotten naked and fucked so that Tony would lay on him and over him, moving and curling into Gibbs' own chest and neck. Not quick nuzzling or cuddling, just getting close, close as two people can get and still be separate, until they got too hot.
Tony hadn't exactly moved in, but he was home- Jesus, home? -more nights than not, catching Gibbs in the elevator, or between buildings or even occasionally by text , with a casual question about dinner or a run or with a sexy (there was no other word for it) grin, holding up both hands and wiggling them, offering to oh damn to touch him give him a massage. It was all Gibbs could to do not smile back or clock him but Tony knew this too and kept his distance with a quick "Later, Boss," as he walked away.
His home had been full of traps since Shannon and Kelly died, that's why he didn't go upstairs, but now it was full of twice as many, but the new ones made him horny instead of sad. Tony had put his mark on his house, that's for sure, and started with his goddamned couch. Gibbs scowled as he looked at the offending piece of furniture, formerly the place, other than his basement, where he was most at ease. The only place he could sleep for years after Shannon and Kelly died, and the place he went back to whenever a wife moved out.
That day. The day Tony gave Leon his notice, he showed up at Gibbs' house at the end of the day, having spent the morning meeting with Larry Tims, ready for retirement but with a young team and no one ready to step into even a senior agent position. They agreed to give Tony a chance to fill in during Tim's upcoming vacation but if it worked out, he would become Tims' senior agent and take over the team himself within six months.
And that was it. Within a few short hours, Tony changed the dynamics of a team Gibbs had been building for years. Gibbs knew Ziva and McGee would be upset, outraged in Ziva's case and a little hurt on Tim's. Gibbs smiled. Time enough.
Tony didn't tell them though, just drove them all crazy with his even fancier than usual suit, his mysterious late arrival at his desk that morning, Gibbs' absence…
When the door finally opened and closed at dusk that night, Gibbs was pleasantly tired from a weekday spent soaking and stretching wood for a project that was only starting to emerge in his mind.
"You waiting for me?" Tony's grin was blinding. He leaned against the door frame, cocky and happy. The meeting with Vance musta gone well.
Gibbs looked up over the evening paper, beer just started in front of him, peering over the rims of his readers. Looked Tony up and down, reading the long day, the tentative hope, the thrill of boldness. Waited.
"So I figured," Tony pushed off the door and walked to stand next to Gibbs, closer than he would have before today, reached across and took a long pull of Gibbs' beer, "that I'd stop by, let you know how it went but you probably know all that already because you are Gibbs or because Vance called you or something, but now seeing you in these glasses," Tony reached out and pulled the glasses off Gibbs' face by the bridge, tossed them onto the wooden surface to the side, "I don't feel like talking anymore." Tony's knees, muscled thighs evident even in tailored suit pants, pushed close against Gibbs' side, and Gibbs had to tip his head back to keep eye contact.
A beat, a pulse, of silence between the two men. Tony holding back and pressing forward at the same time, and Gibbs...deciding, and adjusting to Tony's presence and aggression and his need .
Gibbs pushed back from the table, let the energy in the move turn him slightly even as he watched Tony tense to follow him, as if he expected Gibbs to retreat, but Gibbs knew what he wanted, had been thinking about it for months, and now just had to act, so even though he ended a little farther away from Tony it was easy to spread his legs and pull the younger man in between them.
Characteristically, it didn't matter that Gibbs was sitting and Tony loomed, it was Gibbs who snagged Tony's tie and pulled.
Tony's mouth on his pricked with beard and one of them, he wasn't sure which, paused long enough to rub chins, the novelty of rough face against rough face a thrill to both heart and groin. And then they were kissing again, Gibbs' hand gripping high under the knot of Tony's tie and Tony just...let loose. He knocked Gibbs' hand off his tie and reached for Gibbs' face, taking the older man's mouth with heat and the taste of the day, tongue slick and hungry for Gibbs' own flavor. He pulled back just far enough that rough lips still touched lips, sucked down the place where a soul patch would be if Gibbs were thirty years younger and a douche, licked salt of off his rough cheek, nipped along that gorgeous jaw, to bite and pull at the skin below Gibbs' ear, to say, all silk and smooth tenor in Gibbs' ear, "You ready for this Gibbs? Do you need to...I don't know if you have ever...do you want me to wait…"
Gibbs surged upwards, fuck talking, talking rarely got him where he needed to go and hell, he might be new to this but it was just sex right, not all that hard to figure out—
" Yeah ." Tony moaned and Gibbs didn't know if he had said that last thought out loud or if Tony was just responding to Gibbs' hands pulling his dress and undershirt out of his waistband and up, off over his head to land on the floor of the dining room. And Tony tasted so good and yes, like sex and Gibbs was surprised even though he had jerked off to the idea of this ever since the massage, that the other man's mouth felt so right under his.
It was also right that they came together this first time like adversaries and the alpha males they were. Tony's hands were everywhere, demanding that Gibbs get naked right fucking now, and Gibbs kept pushing them away so he could slam Tony up to another smooth surface and taste and suck and bite even as he got to touch Tony's chest so different than a woman's, a soft pelt of hair to pull and hard nubs that made Tony yelp and moan when Gibbs flicked them with the nail of his thumb down and around and maybe leaving a little indentation. Tony let him, let him explore for just a few minutes until Gibbs' hands swept down to the hard belly, hot skin of his sides and then Tony was pushing him away. And walking away. Gibbs followed him, taking the stairs two at a time on his six for once and that made it fair he guessed that he got to follow him down to the bed, crawling on top so Tony could feel his weight and heat on his back, lips feather-light against his neck.
Tony's work assignment changed officially that very morning and its announcement was greeted by good-natured shock by McGee. Throughout the day, he would alternate between pointing out things that would be different without Tony and asking questions about what Tony's new job would be like.
"But seriously, Tony," he said as they stood together at the elevator to leave at the end of the night, "Congratulations. I learned a lot from you and...well, I wouldn't be the agent I am without you."
"No, Magoo, you wouldn't. Remember that." He slipped his sunglasses on and grinned at the put-out expression on Tim's face. More ribbing while the elevator descended but as the door opened at the parking level, Tony reached out and stopped McGee when he would have headed off to his own car. McGee paused and looked a question at the other man. Tony cleared his throat but, not finding the words, stuck his hand out.
The two men shook hands, a little longer than necessary.
Ziva feigned irritation to mask hurt, though the irritation felt real enough to Tony. She wondered aloud what Vance was thinking and threatened to tell Tony's new team about everything from his sophomoric behavior at crime scenes to kissing a woman who had been a man while undercover. She refused to talk to him all morning, though by afternoon, she proclaimed that " she was a professional and therefore knew all about the law of jungles." She congratulated Tony and was scrupulously businesslike for the entire rest of the afternoon.
In other words, Ziva was devastated.
Tony knew he'd have to work to build new trust between them as friends, but they had been through too much together for him to be really worried.
Ducky was warm and effusive in his own congratulations, but asked a few pointed questions about Gibbs, and whether Gibbs knew and how Gibbs was taking it. He was so worried that Tony wondered if maybe Ducky knew something he didn't. He'd ask Gibbs about it later.
Abby locked the lab and refused to speak to him. He worried about that, but knew that Abby had her own way of processing.
All in all, he thought it went pretty well, and in fact, it had. When Gibbs returned the next day, Tony was already on assignment with his new team since three new cases came in at once, and Gibbs, McGee, and Ziva were busy with their own.
They hadn't talked much about it. Okay, they hadn't talked about it at all really, but it was obvious that work was work and their personal lives were no one's business but their own. So from the first day that Tony reported to a new team, he just went with that. He and Gibbs needed time to figure out their personal shit. And maybe Tony went a little overboard trying to make sure that he didn't smile or wink or palm the older man's ass or do something extra fucking stupid to mess it all up, but he really didn't think that Gibbs was acting any different at all. Just his usual bastard, functional mute, self at work, from what Tony observed when his path crossed with that of his old team. He still had lunch with McGee and Ziva, together and separately, and Ducky and Abby— though Abby was a whole other story—but rarely interacted with Gibbs at work.
But he must have been reading it all wrong, or, not working with the team anymore, missed the signs, but about five months after his promotion, McGee confronted him.
"Listen, Tony, I didn't think you were that guy, you know? I don't know what Gibbs did, but don't you think this has gone on long enough?
Tony looked up from his desk. His own team was at a mandatory training since they were between cases and for the first time in weeks, he was in the office. McGee had obviously been waiting to catch him alone.
"What are you talking about, McGee?"
Tim had planted himself in front of Tony's desk as if afraid that Tony would try to escape. "I know it isn't fair, that Gibbs is probably angry that you left the team but you know Gibbs, he isn't going to make the first move. And I know he misses you. You see the rest of us, even Ducky, but it is really uncomfortable and sad that you and Gibbs can't even be in the same room together. You are going to have to make the first move, Tony."
Tony wasn't sure what to do or say. Out them to Tim right here in the bullpen? Plus...and now the spirit of mischief took hold of him...Tim was so sure that Gibbs missed him . He rose, startling McGee into stepping back a step, but Tony had already come out around the desk and slung an arm over the younger man's shoulder.
"Tell you what, Timmy, I think we should go over to Gibbs' tonight and confront him. You invite everyone else and we'll meet there at 7. It's a Friday, so no work tomorrow and it will give Gibbs the weekend to get over it if I make him madder. Keep it a secret though or Gibbs will never agree."
Tim spluttered a little, but despite not wanting to be present for something uncomfortable, his curiosity won out. He did seem a little happier when he went off to tell the team their dinner plans had changed.
By quitting time, Tony had thought better of surprising Gibbs but reaching him to tell him what Tony had done was easier said than done. The other man was out of reach in MTAC all afternoon and then was finishing work up at his desk, surrounded by people. Gibbs had continued to refuse to learn to text despite how convenient it would be times like this. Tony left at 5:30 to go shopping and grab a shower after one last surreptitious— no joy— check on Gibbs. He could call him, but now that the surprise dinner was so close to happening, Tony was starting to get nervous.
Maybe Gibbs didn't want to tell the team.
Gibbs got up before Tony every morning. On his way to shower and shave, he'd stroke his fingers through Tony's hair once, ruffling it a little and ending with a gentle touch at the nape of Tony's neck. Every day. Tony loved that, loved the permanence it represented, loved knowing Gibbs wanted to touch him. Dammit . Everything was going good. Why did McGee have to change that?
Even more nervous now, and sitting in the car with groceries in the back ready to head home, Tony thought again about calling Gibbs. But he'd have to explain his nerves, and maybe arrange a pretend reconciliation if Gibbs didn't want to tell everyone. And Gibbs didn't do pretend. Tony pounded his fist on the steering wheel and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. Argh.
Well, there was no help for it now. He turned the radio up loud enough to make it hard to think and put the car in gear.
Back at the house, he was alone, Gibbs not having gotten home yet. Tony put away the groceries in the kitchen and took his shower. Feeling a little better in worn jeans and a tshirt, he jogged down the stairs, bare feet slapping on the smooth wood.
6:34.
He made up the burgers and put them on a plate.
6:39.
He wiped down the counter, poured chips into a bowl.
6:42.
Lit the grill and scraped it with the wire brush even though Gibbs had done that the last time they used it.
6:49.
Still no Gibbs. Trying to decide what to do next, he jumped a little at the sound of a knock. Feeling like he was going to his doom, Tony went to open the door.
Ziva.
Ziva entered when he pushed the screen door at her, and craned her head. "Hello, Tony. Where is Gibbs?"
"Not here yet, Ziva. It's just you and me. I took over...er...the kitchen and am getting food ready."
"How long have you been living with Gibbs?"
Shocked, he turned. Ziva's smug face grinned back at him. She pointed to herself. "Agent. The mail in the box is for both of you. Your shoes are mixed in with Gibbs' by the door and your coats on the rack. I can even see—"
Tony fled for the door at another knock.
Abby rushed in, arms full of boxes. "Tony, Tony, Tony. I brought pie. You know how Gibbs loves pie. So even if he is really mad at you, pie will make him happy and then you can explain and he may not say much, but you know and I know that that man feels a lot more deeply than anyone knows and—"
Abby practically skidded to a stop in the space between kitchen and living room. Tony couldn't see Ziva but thought he heard her moving around in the kitchen. He was opening his mouth to say...something...when Abby whirled, black cape swirling and eyes big. "Tony ."
He opened his mouth again. She held up a hand even though she was still holding boxes. She turned just enough to put the pies down on the hallway table and then threw herself at him. He caught her and her arms came around him, tight. He hugged her back, still feeling off balance and transparent and shocked but it felt good to have her approval. That's what this was, right? Her voice was muffled against his chest.
"The house. Oh, Tony, it is so...so...full of things, good things. Did you, how did you—" she leaned back and looked up at him, her small, cool hands reaching to rest on his cheeks, and her voice husky with emotion. "Are you happy?"
He swallowed, couldn't think what to say. Nodded, pulled her back in for a hug, felt Ziva's hand on his arm, close as she would get to a group hug.
The door opened again and McGee walked in.
"Abby? What happened?" He looked over Abby's head to Tony and to Ziva. "What's going on?"
Looking down he could see that Abby had tears on her cheeks. Tim was already rushing past him to the kitchen.
"I'll get you a glass of water. I thought you seemed off earlier." Tony looked at Ziva looked at Abby. Abby wiped her cheeks and both women smiled at the sound of cabinets opening and closing and water running. McGee returned, holding out a glass to Abby, he faced Tony.
"Tony, Gibbs has wine glasses . When do you think he got wine glasses?" And then Tim's attention was caught by something behind Tony. "And a DVD player." Abby quick took the glass from him or he would have dropped it, so quickly he rushed into the living room.
Tony just waited, resigned now. What did he think would happen when you invited a whole bunch of NCIS agents over for a Big Reveal. He didn't have to wait long.
McGee returned, brandishing a copy of Cool Hand Luke like a weapon. "There is a flatscreen tv in a wall cabinet, a DVD player, a Roku, and DVDs. What did you do, buy Gibbs' house?" He looked around some more, noting shoes and coats, and his eyes flicked to the kitchen again where the telltale wine glasses hid.
Tony glanced at the door, ready for Ducky or Jimmy to bust in, or for Gibbs to come home. But now that he wanted them, people seemed inclined to take their time.
"Uh...well, I had wanted Gibbs to be here too but I...er...we…I am living here. I mean, I didn't buy the house, Gibbs is still here too—"
McGee interrupted. "Did something happen to your apartment? You could have stayed with me. But I guess this means that Gibbs isn't mad at you. But why are the two of you avoiding each other?"
It was its own kind of painful, watching McGee work it all out. Now Tony didn't quite understand how the two women had jumped to the right conclusion so quickly. Tony wasn't sure what to say now, so he turned and headed to the kitchen.
Abby got everyone drinks and Tony asked Ziva to get out the cheese and condiments. Tony went to put the burgers and sausages on the hot grill and when he came back, Ducky and Jimmy were coming in carrying wine and more beer, and of course Ducky was mid-story and Jimmy was listening. He glanced up and smiled at Tony but didn't seem to notice anything was different like the others did. And Ducky was oblivious, it seemed, and working toward a thrilling conclusion to his tale.
Tony fled to the porch and finished up the burgers, topping them with the cheese Ziva had handed him, and taking a long swallow of the beer she'd also passed on. The last of the day's sun was relaxing and he took a breath, listening to the sound of his friends' voices, their laughter. Wondered where Gibbs was.
Burgers and sausages piled high on a plate, Tony came back into the kitchen, blinking at the sudden dim. Ziva smiled and dove for the plate. "Oh good, I am starving ."
And then the sound of the front door opening one more time, and the man himself appeared at the kitchen entrance. He didn't seem surprised but then, when was Gibbs anything other than unflappable? He kissed Abby when she leaned forward to greet him; nodded to Ducky and Jimmy; took a beer from McGee; said "Ziver" with a smile.
He made his way across the kitchen, and Tony watched, frozen, terrified and somehow hopeful at once.
When Gibbs reach him, he kissed Tony. On the mouth, his hand slipping behind Tony's neck to hold him still. Just like he did every day when he got home. "Hey. Smells good." Let go and turned to lean against the counter, beer held loosely between two fingers at his side as he surveyed the room.
It was very quiet.
Except for Ducky, coming to stand next to Gibbs with a glass of wine in one of their new wine glasses, asking him about his day.
McGee's eyes were wide, but he was smiling as he caught Tony's eyes, the light of understanding dawning. The smug look on Ziva's hadn't shifted since she arrived, and Abby looked like all her birthday wishes had come true.
Jimmy, though, looked as if he thought he might be dreaming.
When Gibbs didn't answer, and still no one else was speaking, Ducky finally looked around at them all.
"Oh for heaven's sake. Didn't you tell them?" He shot an annoyed look at Gibbs. "Well, my boy, let me be the first to congratulate you." He came forward and shook Tony's hand. "I'm not sure I would want to live with Jethro but there is no one more loyal, as you know. And I have always thought you were good for him, though always in a purely platonic sense."
And now Ziva and Abby were laughing and Jimmy needed a longer explanation and McGee had a lot of questions for Tony, he could tell, but it would wait while they all loaded their plates and sat down to dinner.
Later that night, Gibbs climbed into bed next to Tony who was laying on his back looking at the ceiling. He said, "Something on your mind?"
Tony turned his head and his strong profile, the glint of gold in a day's whiskers, started a warm burn in Gibbs' gut.
"How did you know?"
Gibbs grunted. He didn't feel like talking, instead reached over and put his palm against Tony's cheek, turning the other man's head toward him and pressing down with his thumb until Tony's mouth was open and ready. He leaned over and the slide and burn of strong lips was intoxicating. He had already drank more tonight than usual, having a scotch while Ducky had a brandy. He figured that he owed Tony words, though since they were what they were.
He pulled back enough to mumble against Tony's lips. "Didn't. Saw the cars."
Tony's eyes were closed, firmly closed, even as his mouth opened again under Jethro's. "You mad?"
"That the team knows?"
"Yeah."
Gibbs put a little space between them. "I told Ducky already. You caught that, right?"
Tony eyes opened, and his breath came soft against his face, mint and a hint of beer. Gibbs really didn't want to talk now, just wanted to taste and take.
"Yeah. Why did you do that?"
Gibbs pressed into Tony again, mouth open and hand slipping down under the elastic of Tony's boxers. He would have smiled at Tony's groan, at the way that his hips pushed up, but the feel of Tony's cock lengthening in his hand distracted him, and he didn't feel like smiling anymore.
Tony pushed at Jethro's chest, made room between their mouths again, but didn't say anything about his hand. Just waited even as Gibbs started with long slow strokes, too light to be really satisfying. Tony's eyes were only half open now, but the glint of blue was determined. Gibbs sighed.
"Because he's my friend and you're the person I love. Not mad that you'd want to tell your friends. Figured it must mean you love me too."
" Jesus , Gibbs. Sometimes you just slay me, you mute bastard." Tony bucked and flipped them so he was on top, pushing Jethro's hands up over his head and holding them tight with one hand, grinding down on this man who loved him, seeming suddenly determined to show him just how much the feeling was reciprocated.
Jethro let his body go limp, happy to be ravished, and grinned up at Tony. Tony smiled back at him. "Of course I love you. Now shut up. You talk too much."
The End