"Gibbs?" The basement resounded with a steadily rhythmic scrape and smelled slightly sweet, like young wood.
"Don't you dare come down here," ordered Gibbs.
"Come on, boss. I'm bored." At Tony's feet, Rufus hunkered across the top step protectively.
Which, to Gibbs' mind, made him smarter than his owner.
"I can sand," wheedled DiNozzo.
"Do not move." Gibbs put down his microplane. "If you're going to come down here I'm going to come get you."
Tony held up a hand in front of his face. "Actually it's not too bad this morning. I think I can see fingers."
"Come on," muttered Gibbs when he'd reached him, latching one of Tony's hands on the railing and the other on his shoulder. "Just go easy."
They almost made it to the bottom before Tony's feet tangled and with an almost acrobatic twist Gibbs ended up chest-to-chest with the younger man, his hug the only thing holding DiNozzo upright.
This close Tony could feel the heat of Gibbs' body seeping through his chambray work shirt and, in embarrassment, he tried to pull away, but the strong arms held him close. Squinting in confusion at the face only inches from his own, Tony only nodded mutely when Gibbs asked him if he was all right.
"You sure?" As Tony tried to find his feet, Gibbs steadied him, Tony's still-damp hair brushing his cheek.
"Yeah," Tony finally managed. "Sorry."
Gibbs loosened his hold only slightly, waiting to see if DiNozzo would remain upright. "No need to be sorry."
Steadier now, Tony backed out of the grip, fumbling for the stair rail, not quite sure what had just happened. Or what had seemed to happen. Although undoubtedly he was somehow ... hallucinating that Gibbs didn't seem to want to let go. This was Gibbs after all. Ex-gunnery sergeant. Thrice-wed lover of redheaded females. Gibbs.
The gray-haired man seemed to be studying him but then he tilted his head and smiled in that kind of Gibbs' half-smile Tony was used to. "You asked for this, DiNozzo."
His mind still ... elsewhere Tony gulped convulsively at the statement, but Gibbs was already turned around, replacing Tony's free hand on his shoulder. "And I've got plenty of sanding."
In the dim light of the basement, the ship was like a beached whale's skeleton, lighter ribs against a dark, receding shore. Gibbs pressed Tony's palm to one of the transverses. He nudged a chair with his foot, pressing the aluminum seat against the back of the younger man's legs, never letting go of the hold he had on his arm. Finally getting the message, Tony folded onto the hard seat.
"This is one of the transverses. They give the ship its contour. This one's amidships, where there is the greatest strain, so here they're closer together. This notch," He brought Tony's hand to the cut, "is so the longitudinals can pass through. Got it?"
"Got it," nodded DiNozzo.
"Sanding," continued Gibbs, wrapping Tony's other hand around a sanding bar, "can be seen as a sculptural exercise. You are not merely smoothing the surface, you are revealing, creating."
"Boss ..."
"Yeah?"
"I can barely see fingers, remember? I don't think you want me ... creating."
"How about copying?"
"Copying?" repeated DiNozzo.
"Here," Gibbs stretched Tony's arm out until he fingered the neighboring rib. "That one should feel like this one."
He wrapped his own hand around the outstretched fingers. "Here, see, they taper just a bit. You can measure," he circled their twinned digits around the wood. "Feel that?"
Tony's palm slid downward over silky smooth wood, the top of his hand warmed by Gibbs cupped palm. "And here?"
"Um," the hand was pulled out from under Gibbs own. "I think I got it, boss. Thanks."
"Okay, then I'll be over there."
Oh, yeah, Tony mouthed silently. That would be good. Over there, away from here, right now would be a very good thing.
(tbc)
"Don't you dare come down here," ordered Gibbs.
"Come on, boss. I'm bored." At Tony's feet, Rufus hunkered across the top step protectively.
Which, to Gibbs' mind, made him smarter than his owner.
"I can sand," wheedled DiNozzo.
"Do not move." Gibbs put down his microplane. "If you're going to come down here I'm going to come get you."
Tony held up a hand in front of his face. "Actually it's not too bad this morning. I think I can see fingers."
"Come on," muttered Gibbs when he'd reached him, latching one of Tony's hands on the railing and the other on his shoulder. "Just go easy."
They almost made it to the bottom before Tony's feet tangled and with an almost acrobatic twist Gibbs ended up chest-to-chest with the younger man, his hug the only thing holding DiNozzo upright.
This close Tony could feel the heat of Gibbs' body seeping through his chambray work shirt and, in embarrassment, he tried to pull away, but the strong arms held him close. Squinting in confusion at the face only inches from his own, Tony only nodded mutely when Gibbs asked him if he was all right.
"You sure?" As Tony tried to find his feet, Gibbs steadied him, Tony's still-damp hair brushing his cheek.
"Yeah," Tony finally managed. "Sorry."
Gibbs loosened his hold only slightly, waiting to see if DiNozzo would remain upright. "No need to be sorry."
Steadier now, Tony backed out of the grip, fumbling for the stair rail, not quite sure what had just happened. Or what had seemed to happen. Although undoubtedly he was somehow ... hallucinating that Gibbs didn't seem to want to let go. This was Gibbs after all. Ex-gunnery sergeant. Thrice-wed lover of redheaded females. Gibbs.
The gray-haired man seemed to be studying him but then he tilted his head and smiled in that kind of Gibbs' half-smile Tony was used to. "You asked for this, DiNozzo."
His mind still ... elsewhere Tony gulped convulsively at the statement, but Gibbs was already turned around, replacing Tony's free hand on his shoulder. "And I've got plenty of sanding."
In the dim light of the basement, the ship was like a beached whale's skeleton, lighter ribs against a dark, receding shore. Gibbs pressed Tony's palm to one of the transverses. He nudged a chair with his foot, pressing the aluminum seat against the back of the younger man's legs, never letting go of the hold he had on his arm. Finally getting the message, Tony folded onto the hard seat.
"This is one of the transverses. They give the ship its contour. This one's amidships, where there is the greatest strain, so here they're closer together. This notch," He brought Tony's hand to the cut, "is so the longitudinals can pass through. Got it?"
"Got it," nodded DiNozzo.
"Sanding," continued Gibbs, wrapping Tony's other hand around a sanding bar, "can be seen as a sculptural exercise. You are not merely smoothing the surface, you are revealing, creating."
"Boss ..."
"Yeah?"
"I can barely see fingers, remember? I don't think you want me ... creating."
"How about copying?"
"Copying?" repeated DiNozzo.
"Here," Gibbs stretched Tony's arm out until he fingered the neighboring rib. "That one should feel like this one."
He wrapped his own hand around the outstretched fingers. "Here, see, they taper just a bit. You can measure," he circled their twinned digits around the wood. "Feel that?"
Tony's palm slid downward over silky smooth wood, the top of his hand warmed by Gibbs cupped palm. "And here?"
"Um," the hand was pulled out from under Gibbs own. "I think I got it, boss. Thanks."
"Okay, then I'll be over there."
Oh, yeah, Tony mouthed silently. That would be good. Over there, away from here, right now would be a very good thing.
(tbc)