"Sherri, this is ..." Tony hesitated before deciding the simplest answer was the best, "... Gibbs

The doctor extended her hand. "Mr. Gibbs. A friend of Dr. Mallard's, also, I believe."

"Doctor Lenz," Gibbs returned, also volunteering no further information.

"About the study, Tony, the first thing--"

"Is there a chance he'll be put on a placebo?" broke in Gibbs.

Sherri tilted her head, observing the older man almost clinically. "This is a dose-comparison study. The efficacy of the drug has already been proven against placebo controls."

"That means it's known to work," interpreted Gibbs.

"Yes, now we're looking at whether lower doses, which reduce the side effects, are as efficacious in treating the MS."

"What kind of side effects?"

"Um, guys," Tony put a hand on Gibbs' knee to silence the inquisition, "this is me we're talking about."

"About the study," began the doctor, again, turning her attention back to her patient, "we'll put you on a particular dosage of the drug. Each time we give you the injection you'll need to wait until we can determine there's been no allergic reaction. Any side effects: typical allergic reactions, tiredness, flu-like symptoms -- they all need to be reported. As we'll be depressing your immune system, you'll be more vulnerable to opportunistic infections. You get anything, even the sniffles, and you come in. The whole point of antigen specific therapy, however, is to attack the specific T-cells that cause the MS and leave the rest of the immune system functioning. So what we expect to see is an improvement in your symptoms without much harm being done to your ability to fight off other illness."

The doctor paused, looking toward Gibbs first. "Questions?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Tony?"

"I understand."

"Then if you're willing, we can complete the paperwork and give you your first injection today." Sherri looked from one man to the other. "Would you like me to give you some time to talk it over?"

"No," demurred Tony. "If there's a chance it will help, it's a chance I should take."

"Then, Mr. Gibbs, if you'll go back out to the waiting room, you can keep Tony company while he waits to be released."

She didn't miss the brief caress of the older man's hand against Tony's neck as he rose to leave.

"Stop fidgeting, Tony."

Gibbs put a hand on the foot that bounced up and down against Tony's knee.

"This is boring." Tony popped the glass on his watch and read the time. "I can't take thirty more minutes of this."

"Next time I'll bring your toys." Gibbs scrabbled through the magazines on the table, coming up with a month-old Sports Illustrated.

"At least you can look at magazines," grumbled the younger man, switching positions, bringing the other foot up to bounce in the other direction. He blinked in surprise as his hand was captured in Gibbs'.

"We're alone, Tony," reassured Gibbs.

"How alone?"

Gibbs glanced up at the empty window of the receptionist's desk before bringing the captured hand to his lips for a quick, dry kiss. "This alone."

"Not alone enough," sighed Tony as the door opened and his hand was quickly placed back on his own knee.

He drummed his nails against his thigh.

Gibbs sighed.

"Stop fidgeting, Tony."

"Sore?" inquired Kate with a smile as Tony shifted uncomfortably.

"I hate getting shots."

"Hey, at least Gibbs went with you," she pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, that was a big help. After he tried to interrogate my doctor, he sat in the waiting room and read month-old box scores to me."

Kate grinned at the mental picture of Gibbs trying to entertain a bored and restless Tony. "So, you got some time to do a background check?"

"After I track down McGee's cell phone records."

"I'll wait," agreed Kate. "I gotta take the tagged and bagged down to Abby anyway."

Tony didn't even look up at the next shadow darkening his desk. "I just went through six cell companies and I promised Todd a background check. You'll have to wait." He shifted his weight gingerly against the seat.

"Sore?"

"Gibbs!" Tony hissed, squinting up at the mock look of concern on Gibbs' face, as Gibbs raised his hands in placation. "I didn't mean you couldn't break in line. I figured you were Stonehauser. What you got?"

"You need to go home?" This look was entirely sincere.

"'Cause my butt's sore?" returned Tony incredulously.

The shadow moved as Gibbs circled the desk, ending up behind Tony. Abandoning the pretense of professionalism, Tony leaned back against him momentarily, his head resting on Gibbs' taut stomach.

After just a few seconds, Gibbs leaned down, his whisper barely audible, even breathed as it was against Tony's ear. "Guess that means you'll have to top tonight."

Tony gulped and scooted the chair further beneath his desk, concealing his body's reaction to that assessment as Gibbs strolled innocently away, whistling, of all things.

He was almost immediately replaced by an eager McGee in search of data. "So? Anything more important come up or did you get a chance to get the number?"

The younger agent frowned as Tony grit his teeth.

"No, McGee, nothing came up."

"Okay." McGee looked a bit hurt. "It's just a figure of speech, DiNozzo."

Tony handed him the printout.

"Maybe for you," he muttered at McGee's retreating back.

"I have a bone to pick with you," began Tony when the driver-side door shut.

"You know," observed Gibbs, starting the car, "if Ducky were here, he'd probably give you the etymology of that phrase."

"Don't try to distract me."

"If I wanted to distract you, Tony, I'd—" Gibbs snaked a hand toward the passenger seat.

"Uh uh," warned Tony, fighting off the hand shamelessly winding its way into his lap. "I'm talking about your work behavior."

"My work behavior?"

"Yeah, the whole 'topping' comment was just," Tony paused, "uncalled for."

"Got you hot, huh?" smirked Gibbs, waving at the guard as the gate arm was raised.

"Whether it got me—"

"Got you hot," this time Gibbs sing-songed it.

"Whether—" Tony's second grinning attempt at castigation was cut off by the tuneful ringing of his cell. "DiNozzo."

Gibbs listened as Tony's tone became guarded. He tried to make sense of the one-sided conversation. "Yes. Yes. We would be happy to. Five o'clock Friday. We'll be there. Yes. Thank you."

"That was?" inquired Gibbs when Tony snapped the phone shut.

"Gretchen's attorney. She wants to take off for the weekend and wondered if I'd like to exercise visitation."

Gibbs didn't reply and Tony narrowed his eyes in concern. "You're okay with this --- with playing weekend dads, right?"

The hand that had been playfully groping in a lapward direction was suddenly extended palm up and Tony pressed his own to it, intertwining his fingers with Gibbs'.

"I'd be more than honored," said Gibbs in such a quiet, serious tone that Tony could only grip the hand he was holding tighter.

"Think I was wrong, you know," Tony observed, his fingers relaxing the hold but still clasping Gibbs' callused ones, "sometimes loving you isn't hard at all."

(tbc)

Usual thanks to everybody!