"You ever get the feeling you were being watched?"

"It's a gay bar, DiNozzo. If I wasn't being watched I'd feel slightly ... insulted."

Most eyes, however, were focused on DiNozzo, the dog and the jeans apparently combining into an irresistible siren song. He'd dissuaded the first few with a glare but knew he couldn't keep it up if he wanted DiNozzo to actually do his job.

Figuring possession was nine-tenths of the law, even here, he fastened a proprietary arm around DiNozzo's tight waist. Oblivious to everything but the small circle of blurred but still visible space six or so feet around him, Tony moved momentarily into the touch but then stiffened, realizing what the older man was doing.

"I don't need your protection, Gibbs. I'm a big boy."

"You certainly are," purred a voice to their right, causing Tony to snort.

"Ignore him," ordered Gibbs, jerking Tony forward.

He settled the younger man at a table strategically central to the path to the bar and went to get two beers. Not that he was going to drink his, but sarsaparilla as a prop took on a certain unwanted irony in a gay bar. Waiting on the bottles, he glanced back at the table, noting with a scowl that "Big Boy" had made a beeline for an unaccompanied Tony. Gibbs knocked his knuckles against the bar impatiently, looking, he knew, like a jealous boyfriend. Which would have made the gesture merely a flourish on his cover, if the actual emotion hadn't come along with it.

The bartender, beers in hand, stopped before handing them over, his eyes following Gibbs' intense stare to a relaxed Tony sprawled in the wooden seat, Rufus at his feet, and the man next to him leaning forward in obvious lust.

"If that were mine, I think I'd be getting back there before my goods disappeared."

Gibbs threw a five on the bar top. "He's a big boy."

"He certainly is," observed the bartender wistfully.

"That some kind of running joke around here?" spat Gibbs, gathering the drinks up, the bottles clinking heavily.

"Move along," ordered Gibbs, his foot trapping the table's free chair so he could swing it around backwards and perch menacingly.

Big Boy blew him a sarcastic kiss while dipping his hand to DiNozzo's lap and squeezing gently. Tony's reaction would have been priceless if Gibbs hadn't been locked in a staring contest with the predator across the table. As it was, the startled look went completely unnoticed. Although the recoil Tony made was enough motion for Gibbs to rise threateningly.

"Easy, bos--" Tony stammered slightly, "Jethro."

Big Boy wrinkled his nose. "Jethro? You bring the rest of the Hillbillies?"

"Leave." Gibbs helpfully pointed the way to the bar. "Vamoose."

"All right, beautiful." He gave Tony a final, parting clutch. "You get tired of him; you know where to find me."

Gibbs glared as the retreating butt gave a pointed shimmy in his direction.

"And you," he finished, rounding on a smug looking Tony, "don't you ever call me Jethro."

"Ducky calls you Jethro."

"Ducky calls you Anthony."

"Right." Reaching out Tony ghosted his fingers over the table in search of the beer. Gibbs pushed it toward him, watching the long fingers fasten on the chilled glass. "Now get out of here and let me work."

"Pretty dim in here," remarked Gibbs, watching Tony replace the bottle then measure the space to the table edge with the back of his hand so he could find it again.

"It's a bar, Gibbs."

"You going to be okay?"

"Not if you don't quit scaring off all our potential witnesses. Go ... dance or something."

Gibbs pushed back from the table. "Let's make that 'or something'."

He found a booth in a darkened corner and reluctantly set up surveillance.

(tbc)