CHAPTER 7 - The Pin-up
The interior of Baccarat Restaurant was so dark Tony had to stand just inside the door to wait for his eyes to adjust. This kind of place was a favorite of politicians, perfect for making deals in shadowy corners. He joined Joanna, who rose from a blue velvet chair at a gold table to give him a hug, and as soon as they sat, a server came over bearing a tray with two martinis upon it.
"I thought you might like the Vesper Martini," Joanna said, smiling. "It uses gin and vodka, and Kina Lillet instead of vermouth, and is garnished with lemon peel. Try it."
Tony sipped at the drink. It was very good, though he really shouldn't be sipping cocktails on a workday. But, on the other hand, he was the kind of guy who spent the occasional lunch hour sucking dick in a rich and powerful man's limo, so what the hell.
After some small talk and ordering Bond-themed food, Joanna slid a large carrier bag towards Tony. "A few things of my son's, for you to give to his friends. Some photos from work parties, a couple of books, hand-held computer games…"
Tony thanked her for the thoughtful gesture, but Joanna pushed the thanks away. "Here, this is for you," she said, placing a small black velvet box and a sealed envelope in front of Tony. "I don't know what's in it, or what Ned wrote, but your name's on it."
Tony hesitated, unsure if he was expected to open it now, or in the privacy of his home, but Joanna indicated he should open it while they waited for their meal to arrive. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper. Tony read it and then handed it to Joanna. It was hand-written, and said, "I saw these in Germany and immediately thought of you. I'll bet you have the right kind of shirts for it. You can flash them while impressing the girls (or boys) with speaking lines from a Bond movie."
Inside the box was a pair of platinum cufflinks. Each had two wings spread out horizontally, with the Aston Martin logo in the center. "Wow, iconic James Bond." Tony laughed, and tried not to tear up, but he was really touched by Dorney's gift. He said so to Ned's mother, and they held hands for a moment, thinking about their friend and son's death until their food arrived.
"I'm glad you killed Budd," Joanna said fiercely.
"I probably shouldn't admit this, but I was aiming for leg and hit him in the balls." And then another to the chest, Tony thought, right in his slimy black heart.
"He's dead. End of story," Joanna said with a small smile. "I'm glad it was you that took him out."
"If you CIA agents ran a little faster, it could have been your kill," Tony teased.
"As I recall, I was a little busy, buying you a genuine Hong Kong silk tie."
They talked some more over a lunch of Casino Royale cranberry-glazed lamb, and after sharing a slice of sinfully good chocolate cake covered in golden jimmies (the Goldfinger Fudge Cake) and another martini, Joanna said to Tony, "I had another reason to see you, Tony, away from the watchful eyes of your colleagues. You see, I have a proposition for you…"
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
No new cases came in that afternoon so Tony gathered his things and approached the elevator just after five. Just as he pushed the down button, the door slid open with a ding and Gibbs strode out. "You're back early," Tony said, quickly standing to the side so he didn't get run down. He chided himself for not leaving five minutes earlier.
The first thing out of Gibbs' mouth was, "You look like crap, DiNozzo."
"Nice to see you, too, Boss." Out of nowhere came the image of him grappling in bed with the boss. Something must have shown on his face because Gibbs was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Tony plastered a smile on his face.
Gibbs frowned. "You leaving?"
"Going home," Tony replied, entering the elevator.
Gibbs held the door and asked, "Come over tonight?"
"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea…" Tony looked around, but the few people remaining in the office were well out of earshot.
Still holding the elevator door open, Gibbs leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I want to talk."
Tony asked incredulously, "You're proposing to talk?" It was easy making fun of him, even though the other night Gibbs had talked, and he'd said some things that Tony still hadn't had time to process.
Gibbs shrugged and said, "Yeah, although I wouldn't say no to doing something a bit more… fun… How 'bout I cook you a steak, just like you like 'em?"
Tony raised an eyebrow and asked in a mocking tone, "Agent Gibbs, are you trying to bribe me?"
Grinning, Gibbs said, "If that's what it takes. I've been… thinking about you… about the other night. A lot."
Shaking his head ruefully, Tony asked, "What am I going to do with you?"
"Whatever you wanna do with me, I'll be home in an hour." Gibbs grinned and released the elevator door.
As he got in his car, Tony considered heading home for a shower and change of clothes, but home was in the opposite direction of Gibbs' place. Tony had a change of clothes and some toiletries in his go-bag, so he drove straight to Gibbs' house.
He always kept two or three gym bags in his car. One contained a change of work clothes; another was packed with casual clothing, things he could layer. Both had a few toiletries in them. The third bag was more of a catch-all of things 'you never know when you might need.' That one had emergency flares, rope, zip-ties, power bars and water, spare socks and gym shoes, ammo and a couple of knives, a Leatherman multi-tool, a fire starter, solar cell-phone charger and a medical supply kit. He made a mental note to add condoms and lube to his bag of supplies.
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
After he'd had a shower and dressed in jeans, a black tee and an olive-green sweater, Tony went downstairs. It felt odd being alone in Gibbs' home, but he located a beer and pulled a book on Naval heroes from the bookcase in the living room. After leafing through the book, and being unable to concentrate, he decided to check out the basement before Gibbs got home.
The motorboat Gibbs was currently working on was coming along. Its 19-foot hull was complete, sanded smooth and ready for the first coat of shellac, from the looks of it. Gibbs had told him it was modeled after a toy boat he and his dad had made together when he was a kid. That version had been called the Chickadee, which was his mother's nickname.
This was the first motorized boat he'd ever known Gibbs to build, but the craftsmanship was just as elegant and beautiful as any of his sailboats. A full-size original 1940s barrelback motorboat went for $150,000 or more these days, so no wonder Gibbs was building one himself, at a fraction of the cost. Maybe, once it was finished, and it was time to get the boat out of the basement, Gibbs would finally let him in on the big secret of how he did it.
Tony was about to go back upstairs when he noticed a poster taped to the wall behind the workbench, half-hidden behind a cardboard box full of rolled-up paper plans. It was a large picture of a hopped-up old car, and although Tony wasn't into hot rods, he recognized it as a black cherry coupe from the 1930s. He leaned closer to read the detailed description printed on the lower left-hand corner. Yep, it was a five-window 1932 Ford with a custom dual-inlet carburetor scoop, custom-made rippled headers, and plenty of chrome. If this was what Gibbs planned on building next, he wouldn't mind working on it with him, he thought with a smile.
To see the rest of the poster, Tony pushed the box off to the side and was surprised to reveal a large cutout photo taped on top of the car poster. It was a photo of a bare-chested man reclining, braced on one elbow, wearing black tri shorts.
After doing a double-take, Tony stepped backwards, reeling in shock. Holy crap! That was him in the photo! From the triathlon. Abby had taken it when he was recovering from the grueling event. And it was in Gibbs' basement. A half-naked picture of him, his expression one of happiness overcoming his exhaustion. It took him back to the incredible sense of achievement he'd felt for simply finishing the course. Only… this picture of him was hanging in Gibbs' basement, as though he was a pin-up, a sex object. Gibbs had hung this up where he could see it while he worked on his bait? Why? Tony just couldn't process it. He needed air, to get out.
Tony clambered up the basement stairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen, only to collide with Gibbs. He must have just arrived home. Gibbs grabbed Tony, steadying him, but Tony shook him off, all of a sudden angry, the kind of angry often described as steam coming out of your ears, or ready to blow – that kind of violent, harsh, seething anger. He pointed in the direction of the basement and demanded, "What the hell is that down there?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Don't give me that! You have a photo of me down there, hanging over your fucking workbench, Gibbs!"
"Oh, yeah… well…" Gibbs rubbed the back of his head and said, "Like you said, we both have fantasies."
"Are you kidding me? I look like Mark Spitz without the medals! I'm half-naked, and that's me, and it's so… wrong! How the fuck long have you had that up on your wall?"
Gibbs' face scrunched up as if he were thinking hard about his answer, but Tony could tell he was stalling. "Maybe… a few months?"
"A few months? You've been staring at my body for months?" Gibbs shrugged, but he didn't look like he was sorry, not at all, which made Tony demand, "It's been longer than that, hasn't it? When did Abby give it to you, and why the hell would she do that in the first place?"
"Look, let's calm down. Take a seat and I'll tell you all about it," Gibbs said in an even tone. He tried to take Tony's arm to guide him towards a kitchen chair but Tony sidestepped him and stalked into the living room, still fuming. He could hear Gibbs following him, and swore if he touched him he'd punch him in the face. After a few deep breaths, he calmed down a little, and indicated Gibbs should be the one to sit. He needed to move around, to be taller than Gibbs.
Gibbs sat on the couch, his expression neutral. "Tony, sit."
Ignoring the directive, Tony stopped his pacing and stood over him, and said, in a deceptively cool and collected voice, "Abby gave you the photo."
"She showed me her photos after the triathlon. I said how much I liked that one." Gibbs gave him a small smile. "You were so satisfied, so happy… it made me happy, and happy for you. So she offered to get me a copy. I was thinking something for my wallet, and she turned up with a fucking huge enlargement."
Hearing Gibbs say he was happy was unusual, for starters, and being the reason for that rarely expressed emotion made Tony flush with pleasure. However, he was not pleased that Abby would give Gibbs a blown-up picture of himself without first asking. It took him back to the time, years ago, when Kate and Abby had put their heads together and doctored a photo of him to look like a cowboy coming out of a gay leather bar with another man.
Everyone who had seen it had thought it was hysterically funny, except for him – and Gibbs. Gibbs had been royally pissed. He had made McGee run a tracer through all the NCIS computers to seek the image and eradicate it. And he'd barely talked to Kate for weeks afterwards.
The picture Abby had given Gibbs might not be a fake, and she had only given it to Gibbs, as far as he knew, but she had crossed a line just the same. He was going to have a serious talk with her.
"Don't take it out on her," Gibbs said. "It was my idea, asking for a print of it. I'll take it down."
Tony frowned at Gibbs. "When did she make that enlargement for you?"
Gibbs sighed and admitted, "Soon after the race."
"That means you've been leering at me for a whole year!"
Instead of seeming at all remorseful, Gibbs looked up at Tony, who was now hovering over him in an intimidating manner, and grinned. "I've been leering at you for far longer than that, DiNozzo."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"C'mon, you've been driving me crazy since day one."
Tony stared at Gibbs for a moment. "Crazy how?"
"Hell, you were always chasing some girl for a phone number or bending over in your tight trousers and showing me your ass. You think it was easy working beside you day in, day out, wanting to get you in bed the whole time? Knowing I couldn't? I had to tell myself you were off-limits and to suck it up," Gibbs said, a bit defiantly.
"My ass? In bed?" How had he missed Gibbs getting all hot and bothered over him like that? "So that first time, when I tackled you, the way your knee pressed against my balls… that was on purpose?"
Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah. I figured I might get punched for my troubles, but it was worth a try."
Tony's anger had died down, but now he was feeling somewhat aggressive, and Gibbs-who-was-now-Jethro, seated on the couch, was there for the taking. Time to teach him a lesson, Tony thought. Moving closer, Tony straddled him, his knees sinking into the couch cushions, and smiled wickedly. "I'm not gonna hit you, but I am gonna make you pay," he said in a low, sultry voice.
Jethro tipped his head back and asked, "You're going to punish me?"
Tony grabbed a fistful of Jethro's silver hair and growled, "Damn right I am." Jethro was staring at his mouth, and he licked his lips, and that's when Tony descended upon him. He kissed him long and deep, and Jethro's tongue battled with his, while his hands slid under Tony's shirt and caressed his back. Tony gently bit Jethro's bottom lip, and when Jethro moaned, Tony's cock surged to attention. Breaking the kiss, he said breathlessly, "Fuck, you do something to me, Jethro Gibbs."
"Something good?"
"Come to bed and I'll show you."
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
They lay entwined, with Tony pressed up against Jethro's side, Jethro's arm behind him, holding him while sweat and cum drying on their bellies and thighs.
Tony yawned and Jethro asked, "I wear you out?"
Tony smiled. "Yeah, but I haven't had any sleep the last couple of nights, between you and Zoe." Oops, he hadn't meant to say that. Before Jethro could ask, he explained, "I broke up with her last night."
Jethro nodded in understanding. "You fight?"
"Yeah. It was time, but just the same, I didn't want to hurt her. It got… sort of intense."
Jethro turned his head and stared at him. "You have sex?"
Tony met his eyes, surprised. "No. We started to get into it but… I stopped. And I left."
"Huh."
"It's the truth!"
"I believe you. But it's over," Jethro said, making sure.
"Yes, it is," Tony said unhappily. "The thing is, I knew she wanted kids, but I got the feeling she just wanted me as a sperm donor."
"And you don't want kids?"
Everyone knew his fear of children, and how, no matter how hard he tried, he could never get on the same wavelength as kids. Okay, all that was somewhat exaggerated. He wasn't scared of kids, just didn't like the way they often said what was on their mind. It was disconcerting. Tony was quiet for a while. "Kids aren't exactly on my scorecard. You see…" He turned to face Jethro, to tell him a secret that only two people, both doctors, knew. "…those meds they gave me to zap the y pestis buggers outta my body? Seems they left me sterile."
Jethro seemed sympathetic. "Tony…"
"Hey, it's okay," Tony said with a shrug. "It really is. I know some people would give anything to have a child, like Jimmy and Breena, but I'm just not wired that way. Might have something to do with my upbringing. Or maybe it's in the genes. I mean, look at my father. He sure as hell didn't want any kids, and then he goes and gets saddled with me." He said brightly, "Good news is, I never have to worry about getting anyone pregnant."
Jethro kissed him gently, lovingly, and Tony thought that he could get used to this. He slid his hand across Jethro's chest, liking the feeling of his wiry, muscular body. "Mmm. Nice. Need sleep."
"You still mad at me?"
Tony opened one eye and looked at Jethro. "Wha–?"
"For making you into a pin-up poster."
"Oh, yeah, sort of. Just… ask next time," Tony mumbled. He snuggled against Jethro's warm body and smiled. They still had tomorrow to get through but then they'd have the weekend together; that would be nice. Except, he had to tell him about his meeting with Joanna Teague, and the real reason she'd wanted to see him. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation. But now Jethro was stroking his hair, and Tony relaxed with a sigh. Felt good. Mmm. Talk could wait.
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
Friday morning dawned way too early and bright, as far as Tony was concerned. He left while Jethro was in the shower, headed home and got ready for another day at work.
When Jethro – Gibbs, now they were at work – arrived with a tray of coffees and donuts, he stopped last at Tony's desk and hovered until Tony gave him his full attention. Gibbs said, under his breath, "You didn't say good-bye."
"What? Oh, well, you were in the shower," Tony whispered.
"Next time, say something," Gibbs suggested.
"Sure thing, Boss." Nobody was looking their way so Tony winked, and found it amusing that the tips of Gibbs' ears turned pink.
They got a call later in the afternoon to look into a possible kidnapping in Rock Creek Park. A female Navy Lieutenant who had access to a lot of highly classified information was missing. For the first time in weeks, instead of ignoring Tony in favor of one of the other agents, Gibbs barked, "DiNozzo, you, too," as he walked past his desk. Getting to sit shotgun next to the boss as he drove at a high speed towards the park made Tony smile. Boy, he'd missed this.
Bishop accompanied them so there wasn't any chance for personal talk, but that was fine with Tony. He had a lot on his mind and wasn't in the mood for small talk. Besides, he'd had three nights in a row of less than stellar sleep, and he was dog-tired.
Turned out the missing lieutenant hadn't been kidnapped at all. She'd been exploring off the trail, tripped, and fell down a hill and landed in a rocky ravine, unconscious. She regained consciousness just as the NCIS agents came on the scene, and they worked with park rangers to rescue her.
"Lucky to only have a sprained ankle," said Bishop, as they got in their car.
"Luck depends on your perspective," Tony pointed out. "Falling down the hill wasn't exactly a stroke of luck."
"She could have been killed, and wasn't, so in my book that means she's lucky," Bishop insisted.
"Survival has nothing to do with luck," Gibbs said, adding his two cents. "It's based on your actions, not by some random chance. She walked on uneven ground and tripped. That was ill-advised but not unlucky."
Tony nodded. "Like someone wise once said, 'Luck is where opportunity meets preparation.'"
Bishop threw up her hands. "You two are so cynical!"
Tony grinned and glanced sideways at Gibbs. He said in an undertone, "'Course, if you let us finish the paperwork on Monday, we can leave at a reasonable time today, and someone might get lucky. Just sayin'."
Gibbs turned to stare at Tony in disbelief, but when he faced the road ahead again, Tony caught him smirking.
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •