It was there when Tony arrived at work. Email confirmation of his hotel reservation for Middleton, PA for tomorrow. Saturday night.

He had made the reservation weeks ago, just after his phone call with Gibbs. Reserved a room with a king-sized bed and went to bed wondering what happened at a Strawberry Festival. Just a few days after that, Gibbs said he needed time. And that was that. They hadn't talked about anything personal since. Things had gone back to normal, or one version of normal. An earlier version. Gone were the occasional evenings at Gibbs' place, and Tony hadn't sought the other man out in his basement. On the other hand, Gibbs had gone out with them all last Friday night after work. He hadn't stayed beyond one beer, but he had taken his time with that one, and Tony got the impression that Gibbs was trying hard not to be different with Tony.

Even though everything was different now. Or so it seemed to Tony.

He glanced over at Gibbs' desk. The boss' computer was on, his chair pushed back, showing he'd sat in it already today. Otherwise the bullpen was quiet but Tony knew that within the next—he checked his watch—eight minutes, people would start streaming in. Better to make a decision now.

He didn't make a face, or drum his fingers on his desk. He didn't lean back in his chair and sigh, look to the heavens for inspiration. No audience; not necessary. With a few keystrokes, he made his decision.


Tony thought he'd have to talk his way past dragons at the gate. Maybe an old woman keeping early festival goers out with her steely gaze and her dangerously sharp knitting needles. Or a couple of balding pillars of the community, clipboards and walkie-talkies in hand. Soccer Moms who volunteered to take money and hand out tickets. A local deputy.

Instead, while he was early, an hour before the Festival officially opened, he still had to park a ways away, and when he walked up to the gates, he was asked to help carry a sackful of potatoes in to the french fry booth.

"Tony?"

Tony swung around, potatoes screwing with his center of gravity enough that he spun a little too far. He caught himself and grinned at Jack, stumping across the hard-packed dirt of the fairgrounds toward him.

"Hi, Jack. Heard there was a Strawberry festival…"

Jack moved fast for an old guy and before Tony knew it, was right up next to him, clapping him on the shoulder. "There sure as hell is! Every year since 1910, even during the depression, though even I am not old enough to remember that. Good to see ya, kid. Where's that boy of mine?" He peered around.

Tony had worried about this, but said brightly, "Just me, I'm afraid, Jack. I—"

"Left me to get the coffee." At the familiar voice, Tony spun again, shocked. Gibbs was making his way down the path from the gate, two paper cups in hand.

Jack didn't seem to notice Tony's surprise. "Well that's just dumb, Leroy. You know we have coffee. About to put it out for the volunteers. And donuts too. Better than any fancy coffee from the city." Tony smiled at the grouchy pout on the old man's face. Couldn't stop smiling, in fact, even though he didn't know what it meant, that Gibbs was here, had come after all. Smiled wider when he realized that Jackson's eyes were bright and was glad for Gibbs' father that Gibbs had come.

Still, neither Gibbs gave much away and for his part, Jack just kept on talking, taking charge and moving things along. "And we could use a few more volunteers too. Leroy, you just come along here, and Tony I think you probably need to deliver those potatoes over to Duke Barnes over at the Fry Hut." The old man pushed Tony in the right direction. "I hate to put you to work first thing but there's a lot to do. Meet me and Leroy over at the main tent once you get rid of those okay? Don't let Duke give you more jobs."

In the event, Tony did have to help Duke and his wife Amy get the rest of the potatoes up from the parking lot but then was able to circle back to the main tent. He spotted Gibbs standing on the opposite side with his father, surrounded by a group of women about Jack's age. As Tony entered, Gibbs head swiveled and Tony smirked. He had never seen Gibbs look so helpless. Gibbs' look of almost desperation turned into a more familiar glare: DiNozzo get your ass over here.

"Coming, Boss." Tony called out and strode over to the other man, trying not to seem eager, but Gibbs had trained him too well for him not to respond. And he didn't really mind anyway.

"Jethro, tell me you don't make him call you Boss when you are off duty." Jack half turned and reached out for Tony, drawing him forward and into the gaggle of women. "Ladies, this is Tony DiNozzo, another handsome federal agent with N.C.I.S. and a friend," he shot Gibbs a look of reproof, "of my son." Tony shook hands with the women and happily accepted a apple cider donut and a fresh cup of coffee. Before he knew it, Jack and Gibbs had taken off to get more tables and chairs set up, leaving him to entertain the Ladies' Auxiliary. The women put him to work soon enough though and the next hour passed in a blur of new faces, more donuts, and chores.

Finally, Jack patted him on the back as he rose from where he was adjusting the base of a standing speaker. "You go find Leroy, Tony. We're all set up here. He'll take you around the festival."

So Tony went to find Leroy, trying not to think about anything other than not stepping on the small children who were suddenly everywhere.

Knowing the man the way he did, he knew Gibbs would either appear out of nowhere just when he least expected it, or he'd be waiting for him somewhere obvious. Where would he go?

Tony wandered around the fairgrounds, full mostly of old people and families this early in the morning. The carnival rides off to the far side of the fairgrounds stood silent and dark still, waiting to be filled with youthful derring-do. The booths that were open were serving strawberry-studded breakfast, or starting to put out wares…hand-carved bowls, local art, quilts, jewelry; the air was heavy with the scent of frying food and cut grass. He was starting to wonder if he was going to have to call McGee to track Gibbs' phone when his own phone buzzed in his pocket.

Need backup at the strawberry tent.

Tony's head snapped up, found the bundle of red balloons high in the distance and looked for signs of trouble. Nothing seemed out of place though. The crowd read fine to him and he didn't hear any sirens or other signs of disaster. Still, he broke into a quick trot and couldn't help but smile when Gibbs…Jethro?…Gibbs became visible. The older man was surrounded by people again and despite the fact that Gibbs was nodding and listening to the pretty woman at his side, Tony could read the signs. He went to rescue…well, someone…he didn't know who was in more danger, his boss or the…women, because they were all women…surrounding him. Gibbs turned his head and met Tony's eyes and Tony grinned at his expression. Get me out of here, said the steely glare. Inside his head, the voice of Marlon Perkins, the host of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, began to intone an elderly soundtrack to Tony's approach.

Misinterpreted by many.. the lowered brow, the glittering eyes, the thin lips turned back into a snarl…of the Wild Gibbs…are less likely to signify aggression or the predatory urge to feed or protect…rather look for signs of the trap…the paw caught in glint of pernicious metal jaws, the net wrapped around surprisingly delicate feet, or the swirl of the pack crowding in—

"Tony!"

Tony took his place at Gibbs' side, smile changing to charm and flatter as he began the work of extricating them from this latest threat.

Fifteen minutes later, he was finishing up with Edna Murch, Jackson Gibbs' closest neighbor but one on the South side of the street and had known the family, and young Leroy, since he was knee-high to a grasshopper though making a whole heck of a lot more trouble than one but he was a good boy really always polite to her even as a young man it is just that she knew that Jackson worried what with Leroy's profession and never coming home wasn't it a surprise to see him here today—

Tony waved a good-bye even as he was jerked off to the side and dragged toward the parking lot.

"Boss, I was almost done—"

"Oh, you are done alright." The hand dropped away but Tony still had to break into a jog to keep up with Gibbs whose patience had finally given out.

"Hey, where are we going?" Gibbs didn't answer and he was still several steps ahead of Tony, face unreadable. "Gibbs? Gibbs!"

"Hurry up," the other man called back at him as they slid past the crowds of people coming into the fairgrounds. Tony lost more time when he slipped on the wet and already muddy path, but eventually caught up to Gibbs, who had hopped into a beat-up pickup truck, started her up and pulled out of the spot. Tony grabbed the door handle and threw himself into the seat even as Gibbs headed for the exit. Tony had to hold on to keep from sliding around since Gibbs had obviously decided to take a back road out of the fairgrounds, a bumpy dirt road, not yet repaired from the long snowy winter, frost heaves, and plow trucks.

Despite it all, Tony couldn't have been happier. The day was warm, almost hot, already, and the dust billowing around and in through the open window smelled like earth and the country and the place where Gibbs grew up. He glanced at Gibbs whose face was locked down tight, and yet his body was loose and relaxed, not really upset or angry.

"Hey." When Gibbs didn't answer, Tony tried again. "Hey." Gibbs met his eyes briefly. "You can slow down now. I think we lost them."

Gibbs lips twitched. "You sure? Edna Murch can move fast when she wants." But he slowed down a little, and Tony stopped worrying about getting another concussion as his head tried to make contact with the roof of the truck.

"I bet. So where are we going? I promised Jack I'd help him serve up burgers at noon. What do you think that means?"

Gibbs shot him a pitying look. "Could mean anything but probably means you slaving over a hot stove—you know how to grill, Tony?—while he leans on the counter chatting up the customers."

Tony grinned back at him. "Good thing I have an assistant, then."

"Oh yeah? Who'd he give you?"

"You." Tony wasn't surprised that Gibbs wasn't surprised but still laughed out loud when Gibbs raised an eyebrow, pointed first at Tony and then at himself, all the time steering the truck around the twists and turns of the seemingly endless back road.

"You are my assistant. I'll grill. You can cook the fries."

"Whatever you say, boss." He looked around. "Where are we going anyway?"

"You'll see."

Tony leaned forward and put his hand on the knob for the radio station. He paused, "Golden Oldies?"

Gibbs smirked and reached out, punched the last of the preset buttons. "Local rock station."

Tony's hand still hovered over the On switch. "Still. I bet you a dollar we hear either…Rush, Eric Clapton, or Journey."

Gibbs'—unfortunately, in Tony's opinion—free hand reached out to shake his to seal the deal. "The Eagles, probably Hotel California, or Kenny Loggins."

Tony snapped the radio on and groaned. "Take it Easy…you win. At least it wasn't Hotel California."

Gibbs turned a corner and slammed on the brakes. Tony jerked forward, bracing himself against the dash even as Gibbs turned off the engine.

"Really, Gibbs, are you trying to give me another concussion?"

The other man's handsome face finally broke into a smile worthy of the day. "You gonna whine all day, Tony, or do you want to take a swim?" Gibbs twisted and reached over the seat, plucking two towels and two pair of swim trunks out of the back of the cab. "Here, you can have the fancy ones."

Tony peered at the navy blue trunks, indistinguishable as far as he could tell, from the pair Gibbs had taken. He heard the slam of a screen door as he climbed out of the truck. Tony had never been to a fair, never spent a day like this in the country. Country club, yes, and city fairs and markets and antique shows, yes. But this…this, was something new. They were the only car parked by a body of water, way out in the country. It was noisier than he thought it would be. The engine was ticking a little, even after the short drive, and there was a hot buzzing in the air that was really quite loud…bugs? Crickets? What other kinds of bugs were there? He looked over at the small red shed perched on stumps. That's where Gibbs went, probably to change. Tony bent over and took his shoes and socks off, walked to the edge of the body of water. It was sandy and the water was absolutely clear, like a pool. There was a sign warning of the drop off and Tony realized that it was an old quarry, not a pond or a lake. There was a wooden float in the middle and a long dock projecting out from a little farther down the small beach.

The screen door slammed again. "You gonna get changed?" Gibbs padded down the steps and the grassy slope toward him, barefooted and bare-chested, swim trunks neatly tied at his waist, towel around his neck.

"Uh…I guess. This where you used to swim? When you were growing up?"

Gibbs stopped nearby and surprisingly, answered his question. "Yep. I was afraid of water, of swimming, when I was a kid, after everyone else had learned. My mom tried to teach me in the shallow end," Gibbs gestured toward an area roped off with brightly colored floats, "but it wasn't until my best friend pushed me in that I really learned."

"Sink or swim, huh?"

"Nope. Sink. Definitely sink." Gibbs snorted at Tony's look. "Jack had to jump in to rescue me and I was so mad that I made him bring me back later when no one else was around to teach me."

"Later, in junior high, we used to come here skinny dipping after dark, in the evening. And then during high school, much later at night, we came here to hang out." Tony raised an eyebrow. "Okay…make out. I am going in. You coming? You can change in the bunk house." Gibbs tossed the towel aside and padded down the wooden planks, bleached and weathered and smooth. Tony wanted to feel them under his feet. But he didn't turn to go to the…bunkhouse…until he watched the other man dive smoothly into the clear depths of the quarry.

An hour later, Tony had cannonballed off the float, and he had swum across the quarry and investigated the blueberry bushes overhanging the water, laden with hard green unripe berries. Gibbs had taken him a ways into the woods to show him the rusted out bulk of an ancient pick-up. When Gibbs lips turned up in a nostalgic smile, Tony asked him and again, Gibbs surprised him, volunteering a story about he and his two best friends—the one who pushed him in the water, Danny, and his next door neighbor, Sheila. They used to come here and pretend to drive and go on cross country trips. Tony told him about how he used to sneak into the garage and sit in his father's fancy sports cars, doing the same thing.

They were treading water, the quarry deep deep on the far side, even right up at the edge of the woods, as Gibbs listened. When Tony's story ended, Gibbs said, "There's a car show this afternoon, and a demolition derby." More laughter at Tony's excited dive back toward the far shore, and the truck back to the festival, before he swam after the younger man.

"You sure you are ready to go back?" Gibbs asked as he pulled himself out of the water onto the dock. Tony was already there, stretched out on his back, water drying in droplets on his tanned body. Gibbs stood over him and let his hair drip on Tony's stomach.

"Ahhh! Gibbs!" He squinted up at the other man. "You don't want to go back?"

Gibbs shrugged and reached down to help Tony up. "I came because you wanted to."

Tony accepted the calloused grip and allowed himself to be hauled up. The two men faced each other and it was impossible for even the unasked questions between them to cool the thick, honeyed air, or the memories of summer that Tony felt were now his own. But they weren't laughing anymore. And Tony said, into the silence,

"You came."

"I thought you might. Figured I'd meet you here."

"Did you track me down at the hotel?"

"Nah. Didn't bother. You'd either be here or you wouldn't. I thought I'd help Jack set up in the morning, but you beat me to it."

"Where's your car?"

"Took the train, walked to the shop from the station, drove the truck."

"Did you buy a return ticket?"

"Thought maybe I'd catch a ride with you."

"Awfully sure of yourself."

"No, just wishful thinking. Did you…keep the original reservation?"

"I almost didn't."

"But you did."

Tony nodded.

"Dad's right, you know."

"I think he'd be surprised to hear you say that." Tony smirked but the smile slipped away again, quick as it had come. "About what?"

"We are friends. You don't need to call me boss when we're off duty, Tony."

"Habit. And I don't mind."

"Jethro." Gibbs insisted.

"Okay." Tony agreed even as his stomach growled loudly. Gibbs turned him with a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get changed, head back. Time for lunch."

Tony still didn't know what was happening here, but Gibbs acknowledging their friendship was a good start. Even if nothing more than this happened, he was glad he came.


Tony couldn't help but see Gibbs all around him. In the young men standing next to girls in line for the ferris wheel, sweaty hands just barely touching the small of her back. At the vintage car exhibition, where men slipped in and out of cars to sit and dream. In Jackson, who laughed and hooted and winked at the ladies, but who saw everything, righting running children before they crashed into tables, and remembering everyone's favorite foods. He saw a young boy, probably five or six, standing with his mother and father, gravely considering three goats entered into some competition. The boy looked occasionally at the man's serious face, checking for something, and when his father moved to speak to the owner of one of the goats, the boy moved closer to his mother, asked her if she wanted a drink of water. This boy wanted to be a man so badly, and was a protector already. Tony turned to find Gibbs and was not surprised to meet Jethro's eyes across the barn; the other man always seemed to know when he was looking for him. Gibbs—Jethro—jerked his head toward the exit. Ready to go? He saw Gibbs everywhere, but least of all in the man himself. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, here in Stillwater, seemed comfortable and content in a way Tony had never seen. He was glad that they had come this weekend.

Gibbs couldn't stop watching Tony, and away from the job and their life in the city, he indulged himself openly. Tony was often irrepressible and fun, but here, away from the pressure of the serious nature of their work, of the competition for Gibbs' attention and approbation, he was still clever but much less sarcastic. He chatted with Jackson and his friends, with the young men getting ready to drive in the demolition derby, with the kids racing model sailboats on the pond. He ate his ice cream cone in such a way that he got ice cream all over his face and the tired toddler throwing a temper tantrum nearby laughed for long enough to fall into an exhausted slump on her daddy's shoulder instead of crying herself to sleep. Jethro felt profoundly uncomfortable in his hometown, could admit that to himself at this point in his life. He was glad, very glad, to have his dad back in his life, but other than his boyhood memories when his mom was still alive, his strongest associations with the town were of being misunderstood, of authority misused, of feeling trapped and unable to find a space of his own. He looked around and understood that not everyone felt that way, was glad to play a role in making the world safe for small towns like this one, but he was glad he had the life he did now. Tomorrow he'd go home with Tony to the city, where he belonged. Being here with Tony made him happy in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

The booths had closed by evening and after the cookout and the demolition derby, the fairway came to life, with its rides and the open air concert planned for the end of the night. The two men left the neon lights of the carnival behind and helped Jackson load things back into his car. Tony drove him home, Jethro following in the truck. On the ride home, Tony asked if maybe Jackson wanted to join them for a drink, but Jackson said he was tired, just wanted to put his feet up and fall asleep in front of the t.v. He extracted a promise from Tony that they would meet him for breakfast the next morning and he waved to the two men from the front porch as they drove back toward Middleton, and their hotel. Tony had thought that maybe Jackson would object to the fact that they weren't staying at the house, but he didn't remark on it. Probably didn't want to look at gift horse in the mouth, seeing as he was so surprised that Gibbs came at all.

Gibbs drove as sedately as Tony had ever seen, down Main Street, away from the shop and Gibbs' childhood home.

"Back to the hotel?"

Tony had carefully avoided thinking about what it meant that Gibbs was here. The last couple of weeks had been hellish, seeing the man at work, feeling as though he had lost something that he had only just found. But. He had survived it and today had been great. Perfect, even. Did he want to risk losing this new ease, the more open friendship?

"Could we go swimming again?"

Gibbs' face showed surprise, and pleasure. Tony felt satisfaction that Jethro would allow the surprise to show, that he had put the pleasure there. "Sure, if you want."

Their trunks were still wet and Tony stubbed his toe on the dark path back to the dock from the bunk house. But it was still worth it, to feel the cool water on his skin, hear the quieter hum of the night replacing the frenetic buzzing of the daytime. He and Gibbs floated on their backs, kicking and splashing lazily until they got cold and took off across the lake in a freestyle race to see who could get there fastest. It was so close they turned and kept swimming. Tony, a length behind Gibbs near the dock, kicked out in a burst of speed and dove underwater to grab at the other man's feet. Tony was stronger than Gibbs thought or maybe Gibbs allowed himself to be caught but in the end, the two men found themselves wrapped around each other, both trying to hold on long enough to slip past the other. More than a match for each other, the wrestling ended with them gasping for air, laughing…almost giggling really…arms up on the dock but too tired and breathless to hoist themselves the rest of the way up.

The memory of Jethro's arms around him, chest slipping against his own in the cool water, the accidental swipe of a cheek rough with a day's beard against his own…all this, sobered Tony.

The feel of Tony's strong legs slipping between his own and the long moment where Jethro's hands rested against the prominent bones of Tony's hips, finally stopped the laughter in Jethro's throat.

The sudden quiet between them wasn't…exactly…uncomfortable. It just was. And it moved them both to climb from the water, slicking hair back and toweling off best they could with towels still damp from this morning. Jethro tossed Tony his t-shirt and pulled his own on. They drove back to the hotel like this and again, Tony felt the ageless grip of summer, of long daylight hours and late night dinners. He was exhausted but also energized and wondered if he should suggest a drink in the hotel lobby after their showers. He was nervous in the elevator up to the room, and wondered if Gibbs would ask the question, or just…let things be.

"Something wrong, Tony?" Still several floors to go, Gibbs must have noticed Tony's tension.

Tony decided not to say anything. "No, Gibbs. Nothing wrong."

"What happened to Jethro?"

"Nothing, sorry. Nothing, wrong, Jethro. Just tired." Tony tried a smile, small but genuine, knowing he couldn't fool Gibbs. Gibbs grunted, but didn't say anything else until they had unlocked the door and gone into their room.

Tony had been in a hurry to get to Stillwater and had just dumped his gear in the corner this morning. Now the two double beds with their pristine bedspreads looked at him almost accusingly. Tony had thought about making a call more than once today to change back to the king reservation, but he didn't know…

Gibbs turned and looked at him. "You changed the original reservation?" Trust Gibbs to go there. It had been too much to hope that the man wouldn't say anything.

"Um…yeah. Couple days ago when I confirmed it."

Gibbs looked at the beds for a long minute, like he was trying to figure something out. His face didn't give anything away when he turned to Tony and asked, "Why?"

"I…I didn't think you were coming, and then I thought, even if you did come, I wanted you to…have a choice."

"What if I don't want a choice?"

Tony's heart skipped a beat. What was Gibbs saying? He pulled himself together. "I think I need you to choose. Not-" he hurried to add, "forever. Just for now, tonight even."

Gibbs nodded, but it wasn't yes. It was just acknowledgment. "I need a shower. You want to go first?"

"No, you go ahead. I'll go after. You want something to drink?"

"You have something?"

"No, but I could order us something from the bar."

Again, Gibbs nodded. "I'll take a bourbon."

So Gibbs showered and Tony ordered drinks, neat, and retrieved a bucket of ice from the machine down the hall. By the time he was done with his own shower, Gibbs was sitting by the desk in the corner, newspaper on his lap and glass in his hand. Before Tony could wonder if now it was up to him to choose a bed, Gibbs rose and threw the paper on the desk. Carefully took the last sip of bourbon and placed the drink on the smooth surface. Crossed to Tony.

Tony was barefoot, in clean jeans and t-shirt and Jethro wore the same. The only illumination remained the table lamp closest to the door.

Gibbs moved in close to Tony and Tony's head spun at the heat, the scent, of the other man. He swayed a little when Gibbs fingers slipped under the edge of his t-shirt to touch the skin of his stomach and to push the newly acquired t-shirt up and off. "I know we need to talk," the older man's voice was rough with tension, "but right now I choose this, Tony. You can sleep wherever you want but I'm going to fuck you now, okay?" And he didn't even wait for Tony to answer, just slid one hand up into Tony's hair to hold his face steady while his lips took Tony's in a kiss so hot, so wet and deep and necessary, that it was all Tony could do to stay standing. Gibbs hands traveled over his naked torso, plucking at his nipples and moving with rough palms over the planes of his back and sides until he pushed Tony back back onto one of the beds. Gibbs pushed Tony's arms up over his head and held the other man down while he continued the incredible kiss. Gibbs tasted so good, like coffee and bourbon and strawberries and summer and man and Tony's cock pulsed with heat and need at this last thought. This was Gibbs, who had caught him before he fell, almost died with him. Gibbs, who didn't let go.

Tony tensed and pushed against the other man's mouth until he pulled back. He met Jethro's eyes, glittering with arousal and purpose above him, familiar impatience at being thwarted. "So," his own voice was as hoarse as Gibbs' but he needed to know, "this is how it is going to be."

Gibbs smiled and dipped down to kiss Tony into submission again, finally growling against Tony's obedient lips, unwilling to move any farther away. "No. Just this time. You can fuck me next." Tony laughed, surprising himself, and opened his mouth to Gibbs again.

This first time, they didn't even make it to fucking, both of them too taken with the sight of their cocks pressed together, Jethro's thumb riding the heads, and when he could stand to look away, sucking and kissing Tony's face and neck, finally tasting the other man the way he had wanted to since Tony kissed him in bed the morning after they fell.

They needed another shower by the time they were done, but Gibbs had grabbed one of the t-shirts to catch their come, his hand wrapped around cloth wrapped around slippery dicks and Tony would have been sorry not to watch if his eyes weren't already closed and he would have objected if his mouth wasn't already moaning and clutching under Gibbs'. The need to get off, to have sex, to be naked together and against one another had ridden them both hard and when Gibbs tossed the messy t-shirt over the side of the bed, it was all Tony could do to crawl under the covers, pulling Jethro with him. And Jethro let him, pulling Tony over and onto him, to lay on his chest where his hand could splay between Tony's shoulder blades, not quite spanning the distance.

Tony's body was already heavy from release and fatigue and honestly, pure fucking happiness, and he nuzzled his face into Jethro's chest, glad he could do that openly tonight, whatever happened next. "Sorry we don't have the big bed?"

"We don't need it." The voice was even growlier heard through an ear pressed to Jethro's chest.

"Mmmm. What made you change your mind?" At his own question, Tony roused enough to lift his head, meet Jethro's sleepy eyes.

Jethro shrugged, no mean feat with 194 pounds of DiNozzo pressing down on him. "About coming?"

Tony smirked. "Yeah. That."

Gibbs made a face and stroked gentle fingers through the hair on the back of Tony's head in a sensual parody of a headslap. Tony's eyes closed and his forehead dropped down to rest heavily on Gibbs' chest. "Gibbs," he breathed.

"I always wanted to. I just didn't know if I should." The words could have referred to the sex or the weekend away. It didn't matter though, really.

"And now?"

"What do you think?" And Tony smiled against Gibbs' skin. Gibbs hated answering leading questions.

"I think you should."

"Tony, what are we talking about?"

"Hell if I know." Tony could feel himself drifting off, the rhythmic stroking of Jethro's fingers on his back making him feel drunk with pleasure. "But let's talk about it tomorrow." He pressed kiss to Jethro's chest. "Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know how to stay."

"That's okay. I do."

the end