"You have got to be kidding me."
Tony grinned triumphantly as Gibbs actually groaned as he stepped through his front door. "Hey, undercover work, you gotta look the part."
"You, yes," agreed Gibbs. "The dog? No."
"Oh come on," Tony fingered the deliberately wicked looking nickel-plated spikes in the broad leather collar.
"Do I even want to know where you got that?"
"Wasn't PETCO."
"It better have been Abby, because I do not want to know if Kate or Ducky possesses such a thing. Or, worse, that you do."
"A pale blue leather spiked collar? Come on. Do I look like a pale-blue-leather-spiked-collar kind of guy?" Tony put a hand behind his back and dug into the pocket of jeans Gibbs was trying not to notice were lethally form fitting. He came up with a handful of black cowhide, his fingers examining it momentarily before he flipped it right side out for Gibbs' viewing. "Mine says 'SLAVE.'"
The growl was low and disgruntled. "Christ, DiNozzo."
About that time the object of his ire staggered slightly, bumping into the hallway table and Gibbs' arm shot automatically out to stabilize him ... until he realized it was not dizziness, but laughter, making the younger man shaky.
"God," Tony leaned into Gibbs' steadying presence. "I wish I could have seen your face."
His arms holding the body still quaking with merriment, Gibbs stared over Tony's shoulder defeatedly. "Abby?"
"Oh yeah. And just wait 'til I tell her."
"So help me, DiNozzo..." Gibbs unwrapped one of the hands Tony had fisted into his shirt to help him balance through the worst of the laughter. He rewrapped it around the harness Rufus still wore under the thick collar. It took a minute, but eventually the other man steadied.
Gibbs looked at him critically. "Where's your brace?"
"Orthotic appliances, that's a whole other area of kink, boss. Not sure we want to go there."
"Well you're not going much of anywhere if you fall flat on your face."
Tony sobered. "I can make it."
"Uh huh."
"Besides, it ruins the line of the jeans. Act the part, remember?"
"Sit down," ordered Gibbs, carefully pushing both his wayward agent and the costumed mutt toward the nearest chair. Still aware of the not completely healed bruises and the decidedly weak left leg, he helped lower DiNozzo against the cushions. "I've got to get dressed."
He was halfway to the bedroom when he heard Tony softly conversing with the canine. "Great, Gibbs is doing Carson Kressley," DiNozzo said almost too low for even Gibbs' attentive hearing, "and all I'm gonna see is a blur."