Sighing, Gibbs looked over at the top of Tony's tousled head as he worked stiffly at his desk. The bullpen was so quiet he was sure he could hear his own heart beating. Drumming his fingers against his keyboard, he glanced over at Ziva and McGee's empty desks and almost wished they were both back from mandatory firearms requalification so that their never-ending squabbling could break the heavy silence. Email after email pinged into his inbox which he resolutely ignored, staring instead at the tense frame of his Second in Command. He was no Doctor but all the signs were there and closing his eyes wearily, he diagnosed Tony with the one condition he hated more than all others when it came to his people.
Sulking.
"Something on your mind, DiNozzo?"
Not bothering to look up, Tony squinted down at the file in front of him.
"No, Boss."
His monotone voice was like nails on a chalkboard to the long-suffering Gibbs who arched a brow in response. Rising, he strode over to his SFA's desk and perched on the side of it with his arms folded across his chest. Having little choice but to look up in response, Tony's eyes were dull and conspicuously lacked their usual mischievous sparkle.
"Boss?"
Gibbs cocked his head.
"You're sulking. I want to know why you're sulking."
A dull flush coloured Tony's cheeks.
"I am not sulking, I-"
"Oh yes you are," Gibbs interrupted sternly. "What's more, you've been openly sulking for the last three or four hours and my patience is beginning to wear thin. I thought you understood why you're sitting on a tanned behind right now – was I mistaken? Because I'm happy to explain it to you again if that's what you need."
Tony scowled.
"Jeez, Boss, you want me to do cartwheels in celebration of the fact you beat my ass?"
"I did not beat your ass," Gibbs corrected quietly, despising the phrase. "I spanked you. Big difference, Tony and no… I don't expect you to do cartwheels but I equally do not expect you to give me the cold shoulder for hours on end either. So, out with it. What's eating you? It's not exactly the first time you've had to get through the rest of a workday with a sore ass… so what's so bad about this time?"
Tony dropped his gaze with a strained shake of his head.
"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."
Gibbs, sensing an undercurrent of real hurt, frowned in confusion. Had he been too hard on the kid? Racking his brain, he couldn't in all honesty say that he had. If anything, he'd been more lenient than he normally would have been. Looking at the now slumped frame of his eldest boy, he couldn't quite help his hand from reaching out. Tucking a finger under Tony's chin, he gently pulled his gaze upwards before refolding his arms.
"Try me," he said, allowing a gentle note to creep into his voice. "You might be surprised."
Chewing his lip, Tony stared up at Gibbs with an odd expression.
"Why do you even care how I feel? We both know I deserved what I got, so what does it matter how I feel after the fact?"
Gibbs felt an all too familiar distress bubble inside him. No matter how hard he tried and despite the appreciable progress he had already made, Tony still wasn't ready to acknowledge his own self-worth or understand why his feelings were just as important as the next guys. He wasn't proud of the number of times he had wished serious ill upon DiNozzo Senior but he added another mark to his tally as he stared down at the slumped kid.
"Jesus, Tony," he said softly. "I thought you knew me better than that by now. You really think I wouldn't care about what's going on with you? Am I really that much of a hard ass?"
Staring intently at the coffee-stained surface of his desk, Tony sighed.
No, Boss," he muttered with a clear ring of truthfulness. "You're not that much of a hard ass."
"Then tell me what's going on inside that head of yours," Gibbs instructed, allowing his Boss tone to creep back into his voice. He waited patiently as Tony seemed to gather his thoughts, staring out at the inky blackness of the October evening outside. It seemed like an eternity, but the kid eventually found his voice, albeit an extremely muffled and mumbled voice.
"You only ever use a special paddle on McGee but you just use your belt with me."
Gibbs' mouth fell open faster than a well-oiled trap door.
"Huh?"
Tony looked up at him with clear hurt in his eyes, compounding Gibbs' extreme confusion.
"The other day McGee told me that you spent days helping him make a paddle in your basement before the first time you… uhh, the first time you punished him… Gibbs style. He also told me that you only ever use that paddle on him. You never did that with me. If you use a paddle on me, it's just a random one you have in the house or you just use your belt… I don't warrant a special paddle but McGee does. I just get whatever is to hand…"
Gibbs couldn't believe his ears. He had expected, perhaps, a rant about how he was too hard on the kid. The last thing in the world he expected to hear were the words that had just fallen out of his eldest boy's mouth. Scrubbing a hand across his five o'clock shadow, he wondered just how in the good hell he was supposed to go about answering this… complaint.
"You… you're upset about what paddle I use?"
Tony shook his head, staring resolutely down at his lap.
"It's not about the paddle, Boss… Jesus… I knew you wouldn't understand."
Gibbs gawped in bewilderment.
"But you just said-"
"It's not about the damn paddle! Jeez!"
Head spinning, Gibbs bit back a retort and tried to think rationally. He was notoriously challenged when it came to… feelings… and this paddle issue smelt suspiciously like feelings. Wondering briefly if it would be wrong to simply flee from the bullpen to the safety of his bourbon stocked basement, he tried to act on Ducky's sage advice given many moons ago. Wrinkling his nose, he had to try hard to remember the Doctor's exact words, imparted not long after Tony's first real screw up on Team Gibbs.
That boy was always made to feel second best to every person and thing in his father's life, Jethro. That kind of neglect leaves a mark deeper than any physical wound. You must always bear that in mind in dealing with the boy…
The lightbulb went off in Gibbs' head with a hundred-watt force.
"You think I prefer McGee to you because I took the time to make a specific paddle with and for him?"
Tony flushed fire engine red but gave a short, jerky nod of the head.
"Look at me, Tony."
The kid did not obey and Gibbs cleared his throat loudly.
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Green eyes met blue with marked reluctance.
"If I ever find out that you have repeated what I am about to tell you or used what I am about to tell you in a deliberately hurtful way, I will make it so that you sleep on your stomach for a month. I mean that literally. I will literally make it so that you are unable to sleep in any other position than on your stomach for at least a month – do you understand me?"
Paling, Tony nodded his head slowly.
"I understand you."
Exhaling deeply, Gibbs tried to find the appropriate wording.
"The reason I helped McGee make the paddle he told you about and the reason I only ever use that specific paddle when he screws the pooch has nothing to do with favouritism. It doesn't mean I like or prefer him more than you or less than you. It's not about him warranting something that you don't. The reason that that paddle exists is because when McGee first ended up in the doghouse it became very clear that I couldn't ever take my belt to his ass… "
He swallowed, distaste swilling in his mouth at the memory of a panicked Tim.
"For much the same reason I would never, ever take a switch to your ass."
He watched carefully as understanding exploded across Tony's face and quirked a silver brow.
"Do you understand what I am telling you?"
Tony stared for a brief moment before peeling apart his lips and speaking softly.
"You're telling me that Admiral McGee is as big a bastard as DiNozzo Senior?"
Gibbs winced internally at the accuracy of the kid's statement.
"Something like that, Tony. Something like that."
A deep quiet ensued between the two men for more than a moment as the SFA digested this information before eventually dropping his head into hands with a small groan and speaking into his interlaced fingers.
"God… I'm such an idiot. Sorry, Boss."
The answering headslap was so gentle it was basically perfunctory.
"Head out of your hands and look at me. Double time."
Doing as he was bid; Tony once again dragged his eyeline upwards and was somewhat relieved to find zero evidence of anger on the older man's face.
"I have told you this before and I will tell you again – I do not prefer or favour Tim over you. You both drive me equally insane, you've both given me approximately the same amount of white hair and you both manage to raise my blood pressure with the same disregard for my health. Ok? I find you both equally annoying – unless you're going on and on and on about some Sean Connery movie. Then I have to admit I do find you more annoying."
He smiled his very rare, very crooked smile.
"Do you understand?"
Nodding, Tony felt a warmth spread through him as his insecurities melted somewhat.
"Yeah, Boss. I understand and uhh… I shouldn't have sulked. That's my bad."
Chuckling, Gibbs stood up and stretched out with an acknowledging tilt of the head.
"I'm used to it. Between the four of you, there's at least a thirty percent chance that someone is sulking somewhere."
Tony rolled his eyes.
"Abby skews that curve."
"Fair point," Gibbs said as he strode back over to his desk to shut off the lamp. Crossing back to Tony's desk, he did the same thing and crooked the fingers of his right hand upwards.
"C'mon, let's go grab a bite. It's late and I'm starving."
Tony glanced at the towering stack of unreviewed files to his right that had been assigned to him by a snarling Gibbs no less than five or six hours ago.
"But you said I had to finish every single one of these before I left?"
It was Gibbs' turn to roll his eyes.
"If you can sulk, I can be dramatic – it's the Boss' prerogative."
Brightening, Tony sprang up before recoiling at the answering pain in his behind. Gibbs couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped him in response, earning him a muted glare from his Second in Command.
"Laughing at the extreme discomfort of others is the Boss' prerogative too, huh?"
Walking to the elevator with an unrepentant shrug, Gibbs carded a hand through the kid's unruly mop of hair.
"Oh don't be such a baby – besides, it hurts me more than any of you four when I have to tan your butts. It hurts my soul."
Spluttering in sheer indignation as the elevator doors slid closed, Tony saw the teasing glint in Gibbs' eyes and couldn't help but laugh in response.
"Why do I get the feeling that you did a lot of damage to Mike Franks' soul?"
Gibbs jabbed the ground floor button with a good-natured smirk.
"Because I did."
…
Random One-Shot because why not!
Inks x
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