Gibbs looked in the rear view mirror to see Tony trying to coax a very serious three-year-old into playing with the toy veterinarian set that Ducky had given them for the trip back, the ME handing over the blue and red plastic case with a very wry "surprisingly they didn't have a medical examiner set" comment.

Sam's small, slightly pink-cheeked face had the same look of hidden hurt that sometimes crossed Tony's, but Gibbs was used to that look almost instantaneously dissolving into the blindingly brilliant smile that was Tony's main protection. Sam was, thankfully – Gibbs supposed, much less skilled at being disingenuous at the tender age of nearly three-and-a-half.

Nipping Sam on the nose with the vet kit's stuffed "patient", Tony finally coaxed a tiny smile out of the boy and in a few minutes he was giggling softly, the ends of the plastic stethoscope stuck in his ears.

Taking the beltway slower than he ever had, Gibbs settled into the middle lane and headed for DC.

Taken off the sofa, the three cushions made a fair bed for a very tired veterinarian in training. A slightly cranky one as well, although Gibbs had to admit the kid had done exceptionally well being whisked away by people he barely knew, to a house he'd never seen.

Thank God for Rufus. Released from duty, the Great Dane had become a near perfect patient, allowing all manner of plastic torture devices from the friendly stethoscope to the snub-nosed vaccination needle to be placed against his patiently panting sides.

"Good doggy," Sam declared through a yawn, administering yet another "vaccine" and patting Rufus sympathetically on the head.

Gibbs retrieved the fireman-print sleeping bag. "Guess they didn't have a cop one," he murmured, unzipping the bag to reveal the Dalmatian print inside. A self-declared wide-awake Sam came and stood companionably beside him, leaning on him a bit as he fought another yawn.

"Fire doggies," Sam pointed out, his palm smoothing down flannel. "I seen a police doggie."

"You did?" asked Gibbs. He dug into the duffle bag and came up with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He held up the tiny shirt. "The Maryland Terrapins?"

Tony laughed, "Must be Lloyd's alma mater."

"Think they make Ohio State?"

"You think he's a Buckeye in training?"

Gibbs' gaze moved from a proudly smiling Tony to watch Sam rock against Rufus' side, fighting hard against giving in to the call of bedtime. "I think he's a DiNozzo in training. Look at him. He's going to stay awake if it kills him." He handed the clothes to Tony, then scooped the listing body up onto the bed. "Come on, kiddo. Time for bed."

This was met with a not-to-be-questioned shake of Sam's head. "No."

"Well, how about we put on your pajamas then we'll talk about staying up?"

"No."

"Brush your teeth?"

"No."

Tony pulled the small body against his, Sam stretching into a backbend, his head ending up on Tony's thigh. "What about a story?"

The blond head bobbed agreeably against his leg.

Now that he'd suggested it though, Tony looked lost as to how to begin. "I don't think we want to tell him some of the stories my mom used to tell me." Tony shuddered ever so slightly. "Besides, without the trompe-l'oeil and the candles, it's just not going to be the same."

"I think I can handle it, Tony." Gibbs smiled, caressing the very blond head. He reached back and snared the stuffed dog that had come with the vet's kit, handing it over to its owner. "There was this very brave vet who went to..." Gibbs paused momentarily, looking around the room for inspiration, his gaze falling on the National Geographic lying on the nightstand, "... Africa." He tweaked Sam's belly. "And what do you suppose his name was?"

Giggling from the tickling, Sam shook his head.

"His name was ... Sam."

This produced more giggles and the small body squirmed against Tony's outer thigh.

"He built himself a treehouse in the only tree on the savannah and had the fastest Land Rover in all of Africa."

"Are you sure," cut in Tony, "that this vet's name isn't 'Gibbs'?"

Gibbs swatted gently at Tony's hair, producing another peal of laughter from Sam.

"Even the most ferocious of animals, like the great lion king of the jungle—"

Sam broke into a roar and Tony roared back at him.

"See, he is a DiNozzo," observed Gibbs dryly before taking the story back up, "he already does imitations."

"He had a trusty guardian named Rufus," Gibbs continued.

The blond head rose slightly to look for the Great Dane.

"And two loyal and faithful servants named Tony," Gibbs poked a finger atTony's chest then turned it toward himself, "and Jethro. Every morning for breakfast he would eat ... "Gibbs stopped, frowning.

"Not coffee," put in Tony.

"... a doughnut covered in sprinkles."

Tony rocked the small body back and forth, receiving a giggle that was growing sleepier. He threw a suspicious look at his partner. "Has Abby been bringing you breakfast again?"

"And," continued Gibbs accentuating the conjunction, "then he would take his faithful servants, Tony and Jethro, and his trusty Rufus and they would climb into the Land Rover and begin his rounds."

"Tony would drive," Tony inserted, leaning down to whisper it in Sam's ear.

"Tony would not drive," corrected Gibbs. "Sam would drive and he would go to the water holes and take care of the water buffalo and their horn rashes." He ignored the grin on Tony's face. "He would go to the plains and cure the giraffes with sore throats. Then he would go to the river's edge where he'd cure the hippopotamuses of their swimmer's ear."

The wide blue eyes were growing narrower, succumbing under the double assault of the story and the gentle stroke of Tony's hand against the fine, blond strands of hair.

"He would bandage the paws of the cheetahs so that they would be able to run like the wind and then he'd go up the great mountain to heal the small baby gorillas who would often scamper away from their mothers and eat the very foods they were told not to ..."

Gibbs paused, watching the heavy eyelids droop and, this time, stay closed. He lifted the lethargic body and began to wrestle the t-shirt off of complacent arms. Sam rallied enough to protest just a bit but then gave up and let them slip the Terrapin tee over his head.

He was shortly bundled in the sleeping bag on the floor, rubbing a hand over very sleepy eyes. Leaning down awkwardly, Tony gave a final caress to the shiny hair. "Night, buddy."

"'ni ..." mumbled Sam, rolling over to clutch the pillow in a fashion Gibbs found very familiar.

Gibbs latched a hand under Tony's arm and pulled him back upright, holding on when Tony dizzily clutched a firm grip on his shoulder. "I got you," he murmured, further bracing a hand to Tony's back.

"I know you do," Tony whispered in return.

He caught Tony in the bathroom feeling, rather than reading, the bottle of ibuprofen, his long fingers trying to decipher how to line up the arrow of the cap.

"Bad?" he asked, removing the bottle from the searching touch.

Tony's bare feet shuffled a little on the cool tile floor. "A little blurry," he admitted. "Got a headache."

Squinting a bit himself, Gibbs snapped the cap open, shaking two capsules into the palm that reached toward him.

"Sam still asleep?"

"If he's not, he's incredibly quiet."

Tony took the offered cup of water as well. "You think we ought to ... sleep in separate rooms?"

"He's three, Tony. I don't think he's going to question why two adults are sleeping in bed together. I'm sure his mother--"

Tony shuddered. "Not a mental picture I need, Gibbs. I mean Lloyd's really let himself go."

Gibbs wrapped his arms around Tony's waist. In the mirror Tony's reflection looked pensive and Gibbs leaned a soft kiss against the nape of his neck.

"You think he had a good time?"

"I think he had a great time," observed Gibbs, resting his chin on Tony's shoulder.

Tony shifted in Gibbs' grasp, turning so they faced each other. "Who knew you could tell a bedtime story?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"What other talents have you been keeping hidden?"

There was a beat while Gibbs thought about this. "I can replace the exhaust manifold on a '62 Corvette."

Tony laughed. "You truly are multi-talented."

"Come on." Gibbs offered Tony his hand after he carefully disentangled himself. "We're going to need all the sleep we can get."

Tony popped the top of his watch. "It's only nine."

"You ever spent a Saturday with a three-year-old?" asked Gibbs, plopping down on the bed with a small groan. When Tony got in, he drew him to him, wrapping an arm around his back, leading Tony to rest his head on his shoulder.

In a short time he heard the chorus of the deep, even breaths of two sleeping DiNozzos and he planted a soft, unseen kiss on Tony's hair.

(tbc)

Let's see ... thanks to C, as usual. Many thanks to Aly for trying to keep me afloat in the frighteningly sticky abyss of writing kid-laced-fanfic and many, many, many thanks for knowing what kind of story Gibbs might tell said three-year-old. That all being said, everything that's wrong is all my fault (as always). Thanks for the continuing feedback!