Sweet Gestures
Chapter 9
The bomb threat case that Gibbs' team took on during the days that led up to Christmas proved to be difficult to solve. Three of the bombs, each discovered on a subsequent day, and all of different designs, did not detonate, so they had plenty of forensic evidence. It wasn't clear whether the devices were intended to explode or if the aim was to create anxiety on American soil. Although the team couldn't initially tie the incidents together Gibbs's gut told him they were in some way related.
The day the first bomb was discovered they worked late checking out every lead they could pursue. Forensics, searches for the origins of the explosive components, interviews and statements - all parts of a puzzle that gave them no solid leads. Eventually Gibbs called 'time' and sent everyone home.
After eating Chinese take-out Gibbs started a fire in the hearth and then he and Tony sat down together to watch the second movie on Tony's new Christmas DVD. It was Christmas in Connecticut, in which Barbara Stanwyck played a food columnist who passed herself off as a perfect housewife.
"I love this," Tony declared happily as he handed Jethro a beer and settled on the couch in the crook of his arm to watch the movie. "She can't cook or anything and when a war hero is invited for a traditional Christmas dinner at her non-existent home in Connecticut she has to scramble to find a house, be the perfect hostess and learn how to cook. Of course she falls in love with Dennis Morgan - he's the war hero - and her lie is exposed. My mother loved him. Said he had bedroom eyes. You know him, right? He was in a lot of buddy movies with Jack Carson."
"I know who Stanwyck is." Gibbs took a sip of his beer and chuckled. "I know that this plot reminds me of us, Tony. You pretend to cook and then you fall in love with the war hero."
Tony dug his elbow into Jethro's ribs. "Hey, I know how to cook." Jethro raised an eyebrow in disbelief so Tony amended, "I can make sauce and spaghetti and…uh…okay so my repertoire is a bit limited, but you never complain about my Spaghetti DiNozzo."
Jethro slipped his arm around Tony's shoulders and rubbed his arm. "If I ever do you can kick me to the curb. Love you just as you are, Tony."
Tony slid down a bit on the couch so his head rested on Jethro's shoulder, smiling at his lover's words. After a while he turned the volume of the movie down a bit. "Did you have good Christmases at your house when you were growing up, Jethro?"
"Well, sure."
"Tell me about them."
Jethro thought about that for a bit. "Dad closed the store for the day and we usually went to visit one of the relatives. Aunt May was my favorite. She was Jackson's younger sister. Must have been twenty people at the table. Big meal, games with the cousins. If there was snow we'd sled down this big old hill behind Uncle Frank's barn over in Morristown." He was quiet for a bit, remembering the past while the movie played on in the background.
Tony prompted, "What kind of sled was it?"
"What kind? Oh, I don't know…one of those wooden ones with metal runners."
"A Speedway," Tony said with a nod. "I always wanted one of those."
Jethro looked down at Tony and wondered how he'd known what brand of sled he'd had as a kid. "Yeah, I think that's what it was called. Worked best on really cold days." Jethro laughed. "We would tie one of the dogs to the sled and get him to pull us. Sometimes we'd pick up speed and pass the dog even though he was running full out."
Tony watched the movie for a while and then said, "I'd like to do that."
"Go sledding?"
"Yeah, but…" He sat up and twisted to face Jethro. "I have an idea…"
The second bomb was discovered, disarmed, and the investigation proceeded. One bomb was bad enough, but another one on the very next day promised something worse. Gibbs' team spent all day and half the night following up on leads, none of them fruitful.
In the small hours of the morning, when Gibbs and Tony finally got home, they immediately collapsed into bed. Tony snuggled right up against Jethro's side but some time later he was still awake. No way was he going to get to sleep. This happened to him all the time when they were in the middle of a case. It was as though his brain was running around a track, occasionally leaping a hurdle, and there was nothing he could do to cross the finish line and catch his breath.
"Hey, stop thinking," came Jethro's gruff voice.
"Sorry. Go back to sleep," Tony whispered. He turned over and started to slip out of bed when Jethro's hand caught his wrist.
"Where're you going?"
"Downstairs," Tony said softly. "You need your sleep."
Jethro sighed but he didn't release Tony. "I really don't wanna go chasing after you." When Tony didn't make any move to return to their bed, Jethro hauled him back with enough force that Tony landed across his chest. Jethro's hand slipped down to roll Tony's balls in his hand as he said huskily, "I can't sleep without you here." He smiled when he felt Tony's cock twitching in response to the fondling. "Yeah, I thought so." Jethro pressed a rough open-mouth kiss on Tony's lips and moaned when their tongues met. It only took a few strokes and a twist or two and his lover's cock was hardening nicely.
Tony's hands were roaming freely along Jethro's thighs, across his ass, then up his back until he was clinging to his shoulders and moving his hips side to side then thrusting into Jethro's hand. "Oh God," Tony cried, his breath quickening. His hips bucked. "I'm not gonna last…"
"Shh, it's all right, just let it go. I'll take care of you." Jethro slipped down the bed. He pushed Tony's legs apart and tentatively licked the tip of his leaking cock before he took it in his mouth. He was rewarded with a deep moan from the younger man, and that was enough to make his own dick harden instantly.
As soon as Jethro's lips fastened around his cock, Tony took hold of Jethro's head. The crisp, thick hair felt like heaven between Tony's fingers, the shorter hair at the nape of the ex-Marine's neck rough and bristling from a recent haircut. Then Jethro's tongue teased and taunted his erection making Tony pant and moan in mindless pleasure.
Jethro went at it with teeth and lips, sucking hard and releasing, stopping briefly to lick his lips before hungrily going back for more. Tony's reactions, his moans, his fingers moving to Jethro's shoulders to dig hard into his muscles, his hips rising in an attempt to get more - all of these things as well as the smell and the taste that were unique to this man turned Jethro on. One of Jethro's hands grasped the base of Tony's shaft and pumped and the other rubbed the tight balls. Whatever he was doing seemed to be working, judging from the undulations and sounds that Tony was putting out. Jethro lost himself in the act, taking all of Tony's cock into his mouth, swallowing him, his own hips thrusting into the bedding, the friction pleasurable but frustrating.
"God…that's right… oh…" Tony's voice rose in volume until he was shouting. "I can't…hold it…" His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged as he strained into Jethro's warm, moist mouth that seemed to be sucking down his entire being. He hungered for more and bucked as the pressure in his balls increased and then he was arching and crying out, "I'm coming! Oh my God…Jeth…ro!"
When it was over and his breathing was still labored, Tony slowly opened his eyes. Jethro was resting, a hand on one of Tony's wantonly spread knees, his head resting on Tony's thigh. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement and there was a great big satisfied but tired smile on his face. "Tony, can we go to sleep now?"
They slept soundly through the rest of night, awoke to the sound of the alarm, and dragged themselves in to work to continue with the investigation. That day the third bomb was discovered. Once it was rendered harmless by the bomb squad it was sent to Abby's lab for forensic analysis.
Director Vance called in a Naval explosive expert to work at Abby's side even though she protested vehemently. Despite her initial misgivings, Corporal Daniel Massey, a slight young man with auburn hair, proved to be in line with her way of thinking and they made progress with the investigation.
Gibbs and Tony went down to the forensic lab to see what results Abby had for them and ere introduced to the corporal.
"Gibbs! Gibbs, Daniel and I have found out that all of the explosive devices are made up of old mechanisms from the dark ages. Really old. Like before 1980," Abby said excitedly.
Gibbs looked sourly at Abby and replied, "From before you were born?"
"Not exactly." She had a quick look at her assistant and whispered to Gibbs, "Before Daniel was born, anyway." Corporal Massey looked no more than twenty years old, as fresh-faced as a recruit. "Would either of you like some eggnog? Tony? I have vanilla and coffee flavor. Spiked and unspiked," she enticed.
Tony nodded and smiled until he caught the look Gibbs shot at him. "Uh, no thanks Abby." He mouthed the word, 'Later,' when he thought Gibbs wasn't looking.
Abby was about to discuss the case when she looked from Tony to Gibbs and narrowed her eyes. "You two look sort of tired. Has the Christmas spirit been passing you by? I hope you've been giving each other gifts like you said you would."
"We're fine," Tony said with a grin. "Just yesterday Gibbs gave me a very fulfilling gift. It didn't cost him a penny, either." He took a step away from his boss and out of the way of his hand, should Gibbs be in the mood to headslap him. "What have you and McGee been up to?"
"Snowball fight, loser getting naked. Stargazing with his friend's telescope." Abby pivoted to face Gibbs. "Are you sure you don't want some eggnog?"
"Abby," Gibbs said impatiently. He turned his head to look at Tony and suddenly remembered the way his lead agent's dick felt in his mouth, hot and throbbing. Forcing his errant thoughts out of his head, Gibbs turned back to Abby, his face set in serious mode. From the look in her eyes she saw right through him.
"Oooh, so your gifts are more of a personal nature," she said with a knowing smile, causing Tony to blush.
Gibbs noticed the corporal was looking from him to Tony speculatively, so he said with a growl, "We're leaving. DiNozzo, you're with me."
"But Gibbs! But there's more!"
"I'm not guessing, Abbs. Just give it to me."
"Spoilsport. All three bombs were made by the same person. They all look like they were made in a home workshop, put together with metal pipes and a variety of easily obtainable components. All crudely constructed. Deadly though, if they'd gone off. But this is where it gets interesting." Abby had a look on her face, a mixture of excitement and anticipation that revealed how much she loved her job.
Corporal Massey pitched in, "He progressed to batteries and heat filament wires in the second bomb. Textbook Ted Kaczynski. The third one is bit more sophisticated, which makes us think he's learning from each progressive bomb he constructs, even if it appears that he made these within the past few days."
"You think? You don't know?" asked Gibbs, sharply enough so the corporal backed off a couple of steps.
"Oh Gibbs, don't scare Daniel off. There is a common factor in all of the bombs so far, apart from the triggers being faulty and not going boom, which is really a majorly big factor if you're making bombs in the first place because they're totally about the boom. They all contain a different combination of shrapnel, nails and ball bearings, but the one thing they all have in common is the Belfast confetti in the shrapnel."
"Metal waste found in shipyards," Gibbs said quickly.
"Very good, Gibbs! Give the man some eggnog! Ah, but it's not just any confetti." Abby moved to her computer and brought up images of artillery shells and data to support her findings. "These metal scraps originate from retired U.S. artillery shells, circa 1982, and there is only one place on the East coast where it could have come from." She handed Gibbs a printout showing the location where the ordinance used for the shrapnel was being stored, just outside DC. "Here at this military recycling storage yard."
"Good work, Abbs," he said bestowing a quick kiss on her cheek. Gibbs barely nodded to the young colonel by her side. "Reward yourself with some eggnog," he said as he strode out the door. "The stuff without the spike, Abby."
The team drove out to the military recycling yard, talked to the crew running the place, and ran down several leads but nothing panned out. Dead ends led to frustration and as the day turned to night and the hour grew late tempers flared. Ziva was testy to Tony, Tony picked on McGee, and McGee even barked back at Gibbs at one point.
"Enough, people. Go home," Gibbs ordered. "We start again in the morning. Look at it with fresh eyes."
As soon as they arrived home Gibbs fucked Tony over the kitchen table before they even took their jackets off. He pressed Tony face down on the sturdy wooden table, a hand firm in the small of his back. A bottle of cooking oil grabbed off the counter. Pants were quickly unzipped. Tony's trousers were shoved roughly down to his knees, baring his ass. There was no preparation. There were no soft touches, no kind words. Gibbs thrust and Tony accepted. Panting, grunting, swearing - both men came violently under the glare of the overhead fluorescent light. It was pure, unadulterated, primal sex that filled a base need.
Afterwards, when they showered together, Tony held a subdued Gibbs in his arms, gently soaping his back, shampooing his hair for him, drying him off. Once they were in bed Tony continued with gentle strokes and placating murmurs, letting Gibbs know that he understood, and that he loved him, not only despite of, but because of his need.
The next day another bomb was discovered on a Navy base, the fourth one in as many days. That time the bomb went off and took the lives of two Naval officers with it. The subsequent investigation led the MCRT special agents to their prime suspect, a retired Navy clerk with no explosive ordinance experience. It was determined that the clerk, who had worked part time at the scrap yard, bore obvious signs of mental imbalance and held a grudge against the Navy over issues with his pension. By the time the team's investigation was complete and their suspect had been interrogated and charged, it was 1800 hours on the 23rd of December.
Tony reclined in his chair at his desk, waiting for Gibbs to join him. "One more day at work, then we're free," he said with glee.
McGee asked, "Are you all set with your vacation, Tony?"
"Oh yeah, the islands, sun, surf and…" Tony watched Ziva putting her coat on and gathering up her things. "Ziva, are you going skiing with your senior citizen friend over the holidays?"
"He is not so old that you can call him senior, Tony. It is not a January-December affair."
"May-December," Tony corrected. He leaned forward elbows on his desk. "Very Blame it on Rio, playing in the Florida sand. Or Daddy Long Legs, 1955, with emails instead of hand-written letters."
McGee frowned at Ziva. "Doesn't Damon care?"
Ziva looked puzzled. "What does Damon have to do with Mr. Sunset?"
"Well, for starters he's trading gifts with you that involve romantic dancing in candlelight," McGee pointed out.
"Burning the candle at both ends?" teased Tony.
"Damon and I have an understanding," Ziva said defensively. "This exchange of gifts is between friends. That is all we are. No more. Men and women can be friends without it being sexual."
Tony and Tim looked at her for a moment and then at each other. They laughed in unison. Together they remembered Kate saying much the same thing years earlier. At the same time they blurted, "Technically."
Gibbs came down the stairs, declaring they'd complete the reports tomorrow. "Everyone go home!"
Ziva headed for the elevator, McGee wasted no time hurrying down to meet up with Abby and go home with her, leaving Tony and Gibbs standing in the empty bullpen, a foot apart.
Tony said threateningly, "You promised you'd do it, Gibbs. No backing out. No excuses."
Gibbs took a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. "Fine, if I have to. You lead the way DiNozzo."
Gibbs sighed. He really did not want to be fighting the crowds in the busy shopping district on a cold winter's evening, but he'd promised Tony he'd accompany him. The younger man had been zipping in and out of the boutiques and shops for the past hour, dragging Jethro along with him. Gibbs had to admit that accompanying Tony on this jaunt was akin to keeping up with a golden retriever chasing a bouncing ball. He wondered where the young man got all his energy, especially after the busy schedule they'd had due to the past week's investigations.
"Jethro, come on," Tony cried, grabbing hold of his lover's sleeve and dragging him into a store that specialized in imported sweaters. Gibbs rolled his eyes but went along for the ride. The salesman, a neatly dressed balding man in his fifties, was immediately drawn to Tony and the two started conversing as if they were old friends. Gibbs, who was standing close to the doorway, ready to make his escape as soon as the opportunity presented itself, frowned as he caught the man, who Tony was now calling Tyrone, laughed with Tony over something he'd said.
Gibbs set his jaw and was about to butt in when Tony looked around the store, located him and smiled. It was one of his brilliant, from the heart smiles, the no-holds barred kind that melted Gibbs' knees and stiffened his dick every time one was sent his way.
"Jethro, look at this Aran sweater!" Tony held a bulky cream-colored fisherman's knit sweater to his chest, his hand stroking across the intricately knitted stitches. "It's so Richard Burton," he exclaimed. To Tyrone he said, "Gibbs needs a sweater, too." Tyrone held an Aran cardigan up to Gibb's chest, ignoring the dark looks the man was sending him. Tony made Gibbs remove his jacket and try the cardigan on, then stood next to Tyrone to weigh how it looked on him.
"We agreed, no gifts," growled Gibbs.
Ignoring Gibbs, Tony complained to Tyrone, "He looks like Mr. Rogers."
Tyrone pulled out a cashmere turtleneck sweater in cornflower blue. "This is lovely and it matches his eyes," he suggested.
"No," Tony said almost immediately. "That's too Ed Woods. Gibbs is more Steve McQueen in Bullitt. Picture black turtleneck, ribbed, with a leather shoulder holster."
Tyrone looked Gibbs up and down and smiled in understanding. "Oh, I have just the thing."
When Tyrone had gone to search for just the right sweater, Tony sidled up to his boss with an impertinent smile and let the back of his hand brush against Gibbs' groin. Gibbs' reaction was to jump back but Tony cornered him in an alcove that offered a rack of sweaters for cover.
"Jesus, Tony…" Gibbs warned. He brushed Tony's wandering hand away with a scowl.
Tony remained close but didn't touch Gibbs again. "I just want to buy myself a sweater to wear when we're sitting in front of our cozy fire. And I want to buy you one, too. It's not a Christmas present, just a…an I love Gibbs present."
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," he said in a low voice, trying not to smile at what Tony had just said. Gibbs' eyes darted around the small store. At that moment they were the only customers in the place, for which he was thankful for due to the hard-on he was now sporting, courtesy of Tony. "I'm gonna get you back for this, DiNozzo."
"Oh, I'm looking forward to it, Jethro."
Tyrone returned with a charcoal gray wool crewneck sporting patches on the shoulders and elbows. "Very military. Just the thing," he said proudly.
Tony grabbed it. Before Gibbs could protest, Tony proclaimed, "Perfect! We'll take them both and we'll be wearing them. Gibbs, give Tyrone your sports jacket."
Gibbs looked at his watch. "It's 2100. Time to go home." The two men ambled along the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder, wearing their new sweaters under their overcoats as they headed back to the car. Their suit jackets were in the shopping bag in Tony's hand. Tony tried to catch Gibbs' fingers in his own every now and then, but Gibbs kept snatching his hand away.
Tony gave up the game as soon as they approached their car. Gibbs unlocked it but Tony didn't get in. He pointed down the street where a crowd had formed. "Listen…music. Hey Jethro, they're singing carols. Can we…?"
***end chapter 9***
