So Gibbs ... surveiled the steady stream of admirers Tony attracted. Watched him charm just about everybody with a brilliant smile and, on the rare occasions when that wasn't enough, there was always Rufus' bondage collar to provoke conversation.

The man was good. That much Gibbs knew. Had known that from the first, and was the reason he hired him. Gibbs wasn't one to let someone's idiosyncrasies blind him to what they could do – look at the rest of the staff: Abby, Ducky, McGee. Kate was the only one of them that might pass for most definitions of normal. And Tony DiNozzo -- the moment he met him, Gibbs knew the man was born to go undercover. He had a disconcerting vulnerability that made people trust him, or at least put them temporarily off their guard. At the same time he could turn that trust off in a millisecond and deal. It caught up with him, later, Gibbs knew. But in the field, the man had been a decided asset.

It took practically all his will power to watch Tony cheerfully allow a light groping here and there; but then, to Gibbs' relief, he demurred every time it started to get heavy, waving a hand in Gibbs' direction, probably saying something about his pouting, insanely jealous, partner. All Gibbs knew is there were chiding looks toward the back booth whenever one of the hopefuls was dissuaded.

"You fight?"

Gibbs was surprised to find anyone sliding across the bench of his booth.

For the first time he took an actual sip of his beer, smiling around the rounded glass. "What makes you think that?"

Unlike the crowd clustered around DiNozzo, Gibbs' first visitor of the night was easily pushing the back end of forty, gray tinting his dark brown hair. But the still well-muscled body was tight and compact.

"You keep watching him."

Gibbs gestured toward DiNozzo's attentive audience. "Everybody keeps watching him."

"Myself? I find this May-December stuff rarely works."

"You'd have to know him."

"Jeff," the man extended a hand across the table. "Jeff Haskins."

"Most people just call me Gibbs."

"Okay," Jeff shook hands in a strong, firm grip. "Gibbs. What branch?"

"Hmm?" Gibbs dragged his gaze away from Tony's table.

"Military, aren't you? What branch?"

"Marines."

"Should have figured. Pretty boy like you ..." The man leaned forward and Gibbs wished he would move so he could have his unobstructed view back. "I have a theory about Marines."

Gibbs met the declaration with a hard, dark look.

"Hey I'm entitled," explained Haskins. "I'm a sociology professor at George Washington."

"With a 'theory' about Marines."

The tone did not dissuade his conversational partner. "You do this often?"

"No," admitted Gibbs, stating what was apparently obvious – that he hadn't ... indulged in a long time. "At least not on US soil."

"How long's it been?"

"I get the sense I'm being studied here."

"Okay, so you're obviously a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy. Want to go out back?"

"Nope."

"Ah. So, this was his idea." Haskins waved his thumb back in Tony's direction.

"You might say that."

"What is it with age and monogamy? We get some feeling of impending doom and get all risk-adverse."

"Maybe we just know when we can't do any better."

"So it's that kind of thing." The professor turned around to see Tony skillfully putting off another admirer who was trying the hands-on approach. "I wish you luck. At my age I wouldn't want to be trying to hold that tiger by the tail." He slid toward the open side the booth. "Mind if I go ..."

Abandoning the barely-touched bottle Gibbs made his own move to get up. "No, in fact, I'll introduce you."

"Hey," Gibbs laid a hand on Tony's shoulder, unsure he could make him out in the muted light, and was rewarded by one of those smiles he'd watched the younger man throw around all evening.

"Hey yourself." Tony patted his own hand on top of Gibbs' and left it there.

"Had enough?" He could feel the slightest tremor in the hand that covered his and he began to wonder if, after this long, he'd even be able to get Tony on his feet.

"I could ... go home."

"Not before I introduce you." Squeezing DiNozzo's shoulder lightly, he gestured the professor to the empty chair. "This is Jeff Haskins. He wanted to ..."

"Get him to go out back with me, actually."

Tony's head whipped in Gibbs' direction. "So, did you?"

"No." Gibbs felt an undeniable burst of annoyance. "He has 'theories' about Marines."

"Really? Kate and I have some theories ourselves."

"Okay, that's enough." Gibbs frowned as Tony shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. "You going to be able to get up?"

"And if I'm not?" observed Tony placidly.

"Let's not go there." Gibbs pushed the table back away from the chairs, giving him some room to help heave DiNozzo upright.

Rufus roused and yawned, then professionally took his place by Tony's side. Gibbs could see the professor taking in the vest that proclaimed Rufus' service dog status. In a second he had clearly put two and two together and come up with something like four.

"MS," explained Gibbs quietly, noticing the slight flush the explanation brought to Tony's cheeks.

"Please tell me everyone isn't watching us," Tony hissed softly.

There were more than a few eyes turned in their direction, but what Tony didn't know wasn't going to hurt either of them. "Afraid you've used up your charm; they're pretty much all otherwise engaged."

"Okay." One of Tony's hands groped toward the table edge. "Then let's do this."

He pushed up, weary legs complaining but, thankfully, not turning totally to spaghetti, and felt Gibbs' hand under his right arm. And an unfamiliar grip under his left. Tony turned in the direction of the unexpected touch.

"Exactly what kind of theories have you got about Marines?"

Gibbs let out a sibilant breath.

(tbc)