AN: Hey, I meant to get this up on Sunday, sorry. But, good news! You get to learn one of Evan's secrets! Really though, I hadn't thought I was being all that subtle. Most of you probably already figured it out.
And would you find it odd if I told you the chapter was written in my bathtub? I wasn't actually taking a bath, I was just...sitting in my tub. I find it very comforting in there. (Freud would probably have something to say about that.) Seriously though, take a blanket and pillow and go lay in your tub. It's great!
Chapter 7
Tony's leg bounced up and down against the stool and he clutched his beer bottle in a vice grip. He kept his eyes locked firmly on the top of the kitchen island, only occasionally straying up to Gibbs' back. It was hard to keep himself from flinching every time the frying pan scraped against the stove top or Gibbs' own beer clacked against the counter. He wasn't sure if it was good or not that Gibbs was deliberately not pointing out his overt signs of weakness.
The owl incident had remained frustratingly unexplained, as was customary with their boss, despite Abby's wide, beguiling eyes. After almost eagerly breaking Seaman Collins in interrogation, the rest of the day passed with little to no words from Gibbs. "My place tonight. Bring beer," was all he'd said to Tony at the end of the day, as he shrugged on his coat and made his way to the elevators.
Tony had stared wide-eyed at his boss's retreating figure, before turning to his equally confused teammates. McGee promised to look for his body if he didn't show up for work and Ziva offered a muttered "Behatzlacha."
Thus was how Tony found himself seated in Gibbs' kitchen, wondering if he'd unknowingly done something to royally piss him off. Many people didn't know Gibbs had the capability to be passive aggressive. Tony was not a member of that lucky majority. Gibbs stabbed the steak in the pan to flip it and Tony wondered if he should have been keeping a closer eye on things, in case there were any special ingredients added to the food. He still wasn't quite sure what the intention was here. Interrogation via meat and potatoes? A high protein diet could be killer on the digestive system.
Gibbs plated the food and set them on the island before taking a seat on the stool next to Tony. He handed over a second bottle of beer and—subtly, he hoped—waited until Gibbs had taken the first bite before digging in to his own country dinner. They ate and drank in silence for a few moments, before Gibbs shifted and reached into his pocket. Tony tensed, half expecting the worst.
A cream envelope was tossed onto the counter between them, Tony's name written in the center of it in a very familiar scrawl. Tony's heart rate doubled. "You want to tell me what's going on between you and my nephew."
Tony couldn't hear a question mark anywhere in that sentence. "Friends. Just friends. Practically pen pals, really. I mean, we've only had lunch. And coffee." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Normal coffee, not the other type of coffee."
"So, you've already had two dates?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him.
"No, no. We've just gone out. Well, not out out, you know, just...out. We're just friends," he reaffirmed.
Gibbs nodded and took a long drag from his bottle. "But, you don't want to be just friends."
Again, Gibbs turned the question into a statement and Tony hid a wince. This was dangerous territory here. Actually, the whole damn conversation was like walking with unfriendlies, but this was navigating through a minefield. "Uh...maybe?" Tony followed Gibbs' example and finished off his bottle.
Gibbs chewed a piece of his potato thoughtfully. Tony had lost his appetite. "How many letters have you gotten?"
Tony did a quick mental count. "Well, it's been about eleven weeks, so I think I've got like nine." The fact that he kept Evan's letters in the same drawer as his 'Hustler' magazines really wasn't something that needed to be mentioned.
"Okay."
McGee better keep his promise. His lawyer knew to contact Abby; she'd take care of all the funeral arrangements. Tony hoped Gibbs didn't get caught, he didn't want Evan to... "Okay?"
Gibbs nodded and took another bite of his steak. "Okay, DiNozzo."
Well, he hadn't been expecting that.
"Tony,
I'm sorry about the delay but we ran into a bit of trouble over here. I can't explain the situation, but I promise that I am perfectly fine. I hope you're all right, as well. Because of the difficulties, I had to use another channel for my letters and only Uncle Jethro is authorized for deliveries. I asked him not to bother you too much, but I doubt he listened.
This will be my last letter, also. I should be back in the States by the end of the week, so you don't need to write back.
So, where was I last time? We were about half way through my third year of boarding school, right? Well, everyone had been acting strangely around me. Hushed conversations that stopped when I walked by, whispers, pointing, all that sort. Turns out, my Godfather was a convict who'd recently escaped from prison. But I promise you, it's not what it sounds like..."
Tony put the letter down and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd read right. He should probably ask Ducky if he could be prone to anxiety issues.
"Coffee, Boss!" Tony held the cup up like the Olympic torch as he walked from the elevators.
He heard Gibbs snort. "I already said I wasn't going to shoot you, DiNozzo."
"Still, never hurts to kiss up to the teacher. One venti reg," he stated proudly, placing the cup on Gibbs' desk.
"A what?" The marine eyed the coffee dubiously.
"A venti regular." Gibbs' stare demanded an explanation. "A regular black coffee, Boss."
"Yeah, I got that part, DiNozzo. What the hell is the venti?"
"Oh, that just means it's the largest size they've got."
Gibbs glared. "Then why isn't it called a large?"
Tony scratched at the back of his head nervously, wondering if that was a rhetorical question or not. "Well, because it's a venti. See, it's a twenty ounce cup and venti means twenty in Italian, so..."
Judging by the look he was getting, Tony guessed the question probably hadn't required an answer. Thankfully, Elvis chose that moment to interrupt and Tony fished out his cell phone, holding back a sigh of gratitude for whoever was calling. The gratitude lasted until he saw his screen displaying 'ANDY' in bold, accusing letters. Tony scowled at his phone and quickly silenced it.
"Not going to take that?" Gibbs asked while Tony settled himself at his desk.
"Nah, it's just Andromeda."
Gibbs' brow furrowed. "Like the constellation?"
"I thought Ziva said she was princess?" Tony shook his head. "I don't know. Either way she's annoying the hell out of me."
"So, she's the one that's been calling you for the last two days." There was something dangerous in his boss's tone that made Tony tense.
"Uh...yeah. I asked her out a couple of days ago." Tony was tempted to stall the conversation until there were more witnesses about. He wondered if he should mention the, hopefully temporary, friends only policy that Evan had implemented. It probably wouldn't do him any good.
"And?"
"And she got pissed when I didn't take her up on her...offers." Tony cleared his throat nervously.
Gibbs nodded with an oddly pleased expression and Tony blinked in confusion.
Tony stood in his doorway, staring at his surprise visitor, not quite sure what he should do. Hug? He felt like he wanted to hug him, but were they at that level yet? A handshake? Or hell, maybe a wave?
Invite, Evan signed with a smile.
"Oh! Yeah, right. Come on in. It's good to see that you're in one piece."
Evan shrugged as he walked inside. Trouble was nothing.
"Yeah, Ducky said you've had plenty of experience with trouble before."
Asking again, Evan signed with narrowed eyes and a suspicious look.
Tony laughed, unrepentant. "I'm an investigator. You can't expect me to leave a mystery like you alone. I didn't bug him with too many questions, honest."
Evan gave what seemed to be a slightly nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his head, bringing Tony's attention to the wild mop of hair. It looked as if Evan hadn't had a haircut in since before he left three months ago. He was kind of surprised the young man didn't have a beard to go with it.
"Wow. Unless you're going for the Shaggy look, you really need a haircut."
Shaggy, Evan finger spelled with a questioning look.
"Yeah. You know, 'Scooby-Doo'? Shaggy and Scooby? Probably the most well known fictional characters in America?"
Evan did nothing more than blink.
Tony sighed, wondering how much work was going to be involved in updating Evan in cinematic history. "Do you want a haircut or not?"
The silent man reached up to tug one of his errant dark locks in front of his eyes. Seeing that it reached down to his nose, Evan huffed and nodded his consent. Good, Evan questioned suspiciously.
Tony quickly led Evan to the kitchen and sat him down in a chair. The prospect of getting to touch the other man was making him admittedly excited...but, not in a pervy way. "Are you kidding, I'm the best. I used to cut all of my classmates' hair. Of course, I was cheaper than a barber, so they didn't complain either way."
Convincing, Evan rolled his eyes.
He winked and went to the bathroom to get his grooming kit and towels. When he got back, he gave what he hoped to be a reassuring smile and circled around Evan, throwing a towel around his shoulders. He hesitantly ran his fingers through the thick strands and fought down the giddy feeling bubbling up somewhere within his chest. Wetting the comb, he started working out the knots and getting the strands heavy enough with water to cut. After the comb got caught on the black band around Evan's neck for the fourth time, however, Tony sighed.
"Uh, could you take your necklace thing off? It's kind of getting in the way," he said with an apologetic wince.
Evan gave him an unreadable look and hesitated, before reaching up under his hair to unravel the cloth like material. When the ribbon fluttered down onto Evan's lap, exposing his throat, Tony got one of his sought after answers. A three inch long, dark pink gash ran across the front of Evan's neck, cutting into his Adam's apple. The rush of anger that surged through him took Tony by surprise, and he leaned against the kitchen table for support.
Accident, Evan explained.
Tony nodded, accepting the lie. He was tempted to remind Evan that he's been a cop for his entire adult life, that he knew intentional wounds when he saw them. One revelation at a time though, he told himself.
Instead, he picked up the comb again and resumed running it through Evan's hair, talking about any mundane topic that came to mind. Eventually, Evan relaxed again.
"So," he said about half way through, after steeling his nerves. "I don't know if you and Gibbs have any plans or something, but I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evan smile.
