Note: There were some discrepancies in this chapter so I did a light revision and have replaced it.
CHAPTER 15 - Situation Red
"We shot a few rebels, got everyone out safely. Doctors reunited, case closed," said McGee when he called early one morning, a couple of days later. "Man, I hate the Sudan. Hope I never have to go back."
"Sand in your butt crack?" Tony joked. He had just completed running a circuit around the lake and was headed back to The Stone House.
"Yeah, and no amount of showering can get it all out!"
"I hear you did a good job over there, McGee. Glad you made it back safely," Tony said.
"Yeah, well, we could have done with you and Gibbs. Dunham knows his way around but it got pretty hairy at times."
"And now you're home, with your lovely Delilah," Tony pointed out.
McGee cleared his throat. "Um, Tony?"
"Yes, McGee," Tony said wearily as he walked up a path towards the back door, holding the phone to his ear.
"What you said, back in the hospital, about you being in a committed relationship… Was that true or were you saying it to get Jeanne off your back? Not that I blame you because, frankly, after spending way too many hours in her company, I'm starting to wonder if her husband took that job in Sudan just to get away from her. She was emitting this stalker vibe, bordering on the obsessive, you know?"
"Like Kathy Bates in Misery? Or Wahlberg in Fear?"
"More like Cameron Diaz in Vanilla Sky. And you're not answering my question."
Tony entered the house, quietly so as not to wake anyone. "Yes, I really have a boyfriend, and no, I'm not telling you who it is."
McGee said, "I'm not asking who it is, Tony. It's just that… You've always seemed happy at work, or you have until recently, when Gibbs started leaving you behind or ignoring you altogether. But I've had the feeling you're not as happy as you make out to be. And after you broke up with Zoe I thought… you needed someone, someone who wasn't her. I know it's hard for you to commit – I get that – but I have to tell you, it's worth it, even with all the heartache and sleepless nights. Having that special someone…"
"Yeah. Okay, McHeartache. I got it. You're right." Heading for the coffee maker, Tony prepared himself a mug while he talked. Joanna walked in, dressed in dark slacks and an expensive-looking turtleneck sweater. She pulled the creamer out of the fridge and left it on the counter for Tony after she prepped herself a cup. She pointed to herself and mimicked leaving the kitchen with her fingers, but Tony waved at her to stay.
"I'm right? About what? Which part?" McGee asked, sounding surprised.
"All of it. I'm just going to say this: this is new to us, but he keeps telling me he… you know… loves me and… he is that special someone," Tony said. There was a basket of croissants on the large breakfast table, so he took a seat and pulled one apart and ate it while talking to McGee.
"Then promise me, when you think of dumping your boyfriend, or get the notion you'd rather be alone, or you tell yourself you're not cut out for a long-term relationship – don't run. This time, give it a chance. Whoever he is, he's worth it."
Apparently the idea he was with Gibbs had either gone over McGee's head when Tony had outed himself at the hospital, or else it wasn't in the realm of being believable. "Wow, I never thought I'd be taking love advice from McRomantic… but I hear you. Thanks, Tim," Tony said.
"By the way, Abby thinks you made it up, about having a boyfriend, just to get back at Jeanne," McGee revealed.
"Let her think it then. Be back in five days," Tony said, and hung up.
Joanna settled beside him at the table with a bowl of cereal. "So, is everything alright in Tony DiNozzo's world?"
"Yes, it is, and I vow not to make any more stupid mistakes," Tony said with a firm nod.
Patting Tony's hand, Joanna said, "Good to hear."
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
Tony talked to Jethro at least once a day to make sure that he wasn't overdoing things. Jethro said he was doing stuff around the house, nothing too strenuous, and was supervising their latest investigation from his desk at work. Just the same, Tony called Ducky just to verify what he said was true.
When Jethro phoned in the evening, he entertained a delighted Tony with tales about his stint in the Marines, places he'd visited in France and Eastern Europe, and his exploits as a troublesome teenager in Stillwater. When Tony asked him about this sudden willingness to talk, and where it was coming from, Jethro admitted he'd been told he needed 'talk therapy.'
After recovering from a combination of laughter and choking, Tony asked, "I'm sorry… did you say 'talk therapy'?"
Sounding a bit defensive, Jethro explained, "Taft said it could be with anyone. I think he meant himself, but why the hell would I want to talk to a shrink when I have you?"
"Aw, that's so sweet," Tony teased.
"If you don't want to do it…"
"Oh, I do! I want to hear everything about you. You know, I think I've changed my mind about Dr. Taft, if this wordy version of you is a result of his prescription."
It turned out the talk therapy went both ways. Tony would ask Jethro questions because he was genuinely interested in his lover's background, and in turn, Jethro asked him about his childhood, his time at Remington Military Academy, and about his early experiences as a rookie cop. Some of their conversations made Tony pretty uncomfortable, but he could tell it was the same for Jethro, so he did his best to answer truthfully.
Eventually, the subject of people they'd slept with over the years came up, which led to Tony relating a story about a man he'd picked up at the bar at the St. Regis.
It was soon after he'd started at NCIS. "Ronnie, that was his name. Well-dressed with nice shoes, maybe late forties, thinning blond hair, Ivy League education. He kept blushing, which I thought was sort of cute. The thing was, it turned out he didn't want to fuck at all. Are you sure you want to hear this, Jethro?"
"Oh go on, I'm all ears," Jethro had said in such a bored voice that Tony instantly knew he was dying to hear more. "Even though you're describing him like he's a suspect."
Tony knew he did that, breaking down his observations about a person into short bites. It was how he remembered things. "So… Ronnie, it turned out, had a foot fetish, and since he had already generously paid for the room, plus provided a bottle of 2008 Dom Perignon, who was I to say no?"
"You'd have been foolish to turn it down," Jethro agreed, in such a way Tony knew he was making fun of him.
"After fooling around a bit in the bath – and it was huge–"
"The bath?" Jethro interrupted.
"Yes… the bath… which was good because Ronnie was not exactly a small man–"
"So he was big, too."
"Yes, he was big."
"All over?"
"Look, do you want to hear this or not?"
"Just asking," Jethro replied, sounding innocent.
Tony waited a moment to ensure Jethro had finished interrupting him. "Ronnie… uh… got down to making love to my toes."
Jethro, on the other end of the line, cleared his throat. "Making love. To your toes."
"Yeah, imagine that," Tony said with a laugh.
"I'm trying to," Jethro replied. "Exactly how did he do that?"
"With his mouth?"
"Tony…"
"Okay, some sucking was involved. And licking. A little nipping, too, if I remember correctly."
Tony had a clear recollection of it only taking a couple of strokes of his dick (by his hand, not Ronnie's) to make him cum like a fountain. He'd never encountered anyone with a foot fetish before, and it was an eye-opener. It made him think that maybe Jimmy Palmer and his love of shoes wasn't so odd after all. Ronnie had departed with a satisfied smirk, leaving Tony splayed out on the bed, wrung out and smiling like he'd just been fucked.
Jethro asked, "He made you cum?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Did he jack you off?"
Tony felt his cheeks coloring up. "No, he stayed below the knees. I did all the work myself, matching my strokes to his sucking."
"He didn't fuck you?"
"Nope. I creamed his face, and after a while, he cleaned up and left."
"He left you there?" Jethro asked, sounding annoyed.
"I was feeling real good. It took me a while to recover," Tony acknowledged, smiling to himself.
Jethro was silent for a time, then said, "Tell me another story when I call tomorrow."
Tony held the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a few seconds, then replied, "Sure thing. Tomorrow it is."
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
Finally, the SMUT recruits finished their course and went through a debriefing. After all, this was a test run and their input on the program was important. The committee members all expressed how pleased and impressed they were with the recruits' progress, and after a short but rowdy party, and a lot of hugs, a bus took them away. As he waved at the retreating bus, Tony smiled and shook his head, thinking about how the recruit he had lusted after, Detective Costas, had been a little too cozy with him (roaming hands grabbing his ass kind of cozy) when they'd shared a manly good-bye hug. All of the recruits were given the opportunity to take additional courses at FLETC and the FBI Academy in Quantico, and the committee would follow up with them in a few weeks.
That night, Tony, Cox, Garcia and Teague got everything in order and packed up their paper files. They planned to take a short break and meet in a week. Tony had a big final report to write, but he had until early January to get that in order. At that point, the committee would present their recommendation on how to recruit and train the short-term undercover agents of the proposed SMUT unit for action.
The next morning, wanting to look his best for Jethro, Tony dressed in a gray Zegna suit and a $400 shirt with French cuffs along with the Aston Martin cufflinks that had been a gift from Dorney. Tony waited for Teague in the foyer of The Stone House, all packed and ready to go. He'd left all the transport arrangements up to her, as she seemed so adept at the task.
He hadn't seen Dorian Gray since that night he'd gotten drunk and almost fucked up his chances with Jethro. It had crossed his mind that Teague may have done something about the trooper, maybe had him transferred. When Tony asked her, she gave him a small smile and told him Dorian had transferred without any incentive. He wasn't sure if he believed her.
Not that it was Dorian's fault. Tony accepted he was to blame for instigating the whole thing, purposely letting Dorian see how much he turned him on. "Fucking tease," Tony muttered to himself.
"Commercial flight to DC. No helo this time," Joanna said apologetically when she appeared. "I'll drive us to the airport. Got a rental car."
"Damn it, you've spoiled me, Officer Teague," said Tony with a smile. He was eager to see Jethro, who had gone back to work on limited duty a couple of days ago. "I'll be glad to get home."
Joanna slipped behind the wheel, saying, "We may be running a little late."
"Why?" Tony asked as he got in the passenger seat.
"Didn't I tell you? Deputy Director Morrow and SecNav are taking us out to lunch."
◊ • ◊ • ◊ •
The Coq au Vinnie, located near the Navy Memorial in DC, was known for its French cuisine. Their fresh seafood was top-notch, Tony had heard. Apparently Secretary of the Navy Sarah Porter had chosen the place, as she'd had dinner there on several occasions.
Parking was tight but Teague found a spot for the car (a CIA company vehicle she'd picked up at the airport), two blocks away. She pulled a face, "Of course today's the day I decide to wear new heels."
"We don't have to rush," Tony said amiably. It was a lot warmer in DC than it had been at Hope Lake, despite it being just over a week to Thanksgiving. Tony smiled at Joanna. "Nice day for a stroll with my favorite CIA officer. Good to be back." Of course, he was thinking of Jethro, and how he'd see him in a couple of hours if this lunch didn't drag on for too long. He had something special planned for bed tonight, if Jethro was up to it.
As they approached the restaurant, Tony could see the covered outdoor dining patio out front, surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence and terracotta pots full of chrysanthemums in rich fall colors. There were a few people seated on the patio, enjoying their food, from the looks of it.
"We're eating outside, al fresco," Joanna informed him.
Immediately, Tony thought that was a bad idea, as it wasn't as secure as dining inside. But Morrow and Porter traveled with their own security detail, so he had to trust they knew what they were doing. Joanna spotted Porter at the entrance and raised her hand in greeting. It looked like she had just arrived, and her security guy was standing between her and the street, being vigilant.
Tony noticed a van with a Temple Street Catering sign on its side pull up in front of the restaurant. It parked in an area clearly marked as a no-parking zone. A valet hurried over to talk to the driver; it looked as though they were disagreeing about something.
"Probably grousing about the high price of parking," Joanna said to Tony with a smile. "That's why I parked down the street."
SecNav Porter stepped out onto the sidewalk to greet Tony and Joanna, and they shook hands. Morrow joined them. He clapped Tony on the back and started talking to him about SMUT. Tony only listened with half an ear, as he was distracted by the van driver, a young man who was walking away from his vehicle. What the hell? Was he abandoning it? The driver looked back over his shoulder, seemingly agitated, and instinctively Tony knew something was wrong.
One of the security officers – it looked like Morrow and Porter had only brought one man each – took a step towards Tony. Tony knew him. He called out, "Dwayne! Sit red!"
Dwayne immediately hustled Morrow and Porter into the restaurant, calling out, "Situation red, get back! Everyone, get inside, keep going, all the way to the back!"
Joanna made sure the diners on the patio knew it was urgent they needed to move inside. "It's just a precaution, folks," she said, holding her badge aloft. As soon as the alarmed and disgruntled diners were inside the restaurant, Joanna joined Tony. "You see something?" she asked.
"Gut is telling me there's something wrong," was all Tony could say. He tried to open the van's back door and found it locked; the windows were heavily tinted and he couldn't see inside.
Tony motioned for the valet to take cover; the idiot was standing there with his mouth hanging open. He started to follow the van's driver, who was walking away at a fast clip, but when Joanna joined him, he stopped long enough to say, "I can take care of this. You go and make sure everyone's safe."
"Tony…"
"I mean it. I'm good," he insisted, keeping his eye on the driver.
Joanna hurried back to the restaurant, calling the bomb squad as she went inside. Tony hurried after the driver, and when he got close, he shouted, "Federal agent! I'm ordering you to stop!"
Instead of doing as Tony said, the young man picked up his pace, looking over his shoulder every few steps. Once again, Tony shouted at him to halt, pulling his gun when the man kept going. All of a sudden the driver took off, running fast down the sidewalk, pushing a pedestrian he encountered out of his way. Luckily there was hardly anyone out walking, despite it being a beautiful day.
Tony holstered his gun and ran after the driver. Even though he had a bad feeling about the van being parked in front of the restaurant, for all he knew this guy was an undocumented immigrant, or had a ton of unpaid parking tickets; he wasn't going to shoot him down just because he was running.
Tony pounded down the pavement, every long stride getting him that much closer to the running man, and when he was close enough, he tackled him. The driver was strong, and knew how to fight. He punched Tony in the jaw and scrambled to his feet, but Tony recovered fast and grabbed the guy's legs, taking him down; this time Tony delivered a fist to his face before twisting one of his arms behind his back. Getting hold of the other arm proved to be more difficult. There was something in the man's clenched fist, and whatever it was, he fought desperately to maintain his hold on it.
As they struggled Tony realized the man was holding a detonator, the kind with a big red push-button switch on top. The van – it must be rigged with explosives! If it was packed with C4, detonation would take out several blocks, flatten them, cause an incalculable amount of injuries and deaths. Homemade explosives might have less of an impact, but they were barely a block away from the van, and out in the open. And the people in the buildings close to the van… what chance would they have?
Tony knew he had to wrest the detonator out of the man's hand, that there was no time to lose. He put everything he had into forcing the man to the ground, while desperately trying to gain control of the device. Just as he got hold of it, the man yelled and depressed the button.
There was a huge whomp of hot air, and an enormous punch, and Tony went flying.
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NOTE: Thanks for reading my story! There are 3 more chapters to go, 18 in all.