"I'm sure he does," replied Gibbs, lips tightening into a pressed, thin line. His hand, likewise, tightened its hold ever so slightly on Tony's as the younger man laughed softly.
Tony pressed the crown of his head back against the sofa's cushions, releasing some of the tension in his neck. "Never heard of anybody getting knocked out by a perp throwing baby booties before."
"They were bronzed, Tony." Gibbs' hand abandoned his. "And mounted. On a fucking block of walnut." His fingers pantomimed a book-sized rectangle before going to some invisible line on his scalp. "Ducky put in seventeen stitches."
"Still, baby booties?" Tony chuckled softly again. He rolled his head toward Gibbs. "I love you, you know?"
Gibbs ran the back of his hand along Tony's cheekbone, seeing so very little of the egotistical man he'd met this morning in his son. He found he longed to meet Tony's mother, to see if he could find him in her eyes. To see where such a gift came from. "He's not going to give up easily."
"I think he may have finally met his match," observed Tony, his smile genuine but slightly weary as he leaned forward, hand rustling through soft, short strands, Gibbs' lips meeting his with an almost chaste, closed-mouthed peck that meant Gibbs had, in his protective wisdom, decided nothing more strenuous than a gentle make-out session would be had tonight. Sighing, Tony leaned back against the couch again. "I want to be the one to tell him."
He heard Gibbs' sharp intake of breath. Maybe he was too tired. The thought of a protracted debate made him suddenly drained. God knows this was going to take a precise touch and at the moment he felt anything but … precise. Competent. Capable. He closed his eyes against the blurriness, but even then he could feel Gibbs studying him.
"Come 'ere."
Hands urged his shoulders down and he finally relented, Gibbs' grasp helping drag his recalcitrant legs onto the cushions. Gibbs' thigh was hard and solid beneath his cheek.
"We'll talk about it tomorrow," said Gibbs softly as he closed his own eyes, the weight of Tony grounding him.
"'kay," Tony agreed, relaxing further, the press on Gibbs' leg deepening infinitesimally.
Gibbs listened a while to the deep, even breaths of the man stretched out on the sofa, heard the click of Rufus' claws on the hardwood as the Great Dane, too, settled down. He remained awake awhile, on duty, erstwhile protector of his small domain, before he succumbed to the warmth and safety and slept.
Gibbs threw a sharp look at McGee while Kate continued to finger the delicate pink yarn of the pair of booties dangling from the edge of Gibbs' computer monitor.
"Not me, boss," McGee avowed, holding up his hands in placation.
"Somebody going to share the significance of baby booties with me?" pressed Kate before shying back from Gibbs' expression. "Or … not," she muttered.
Gibbs caught her hopeful glance in Tony's direction and grimaced. "The Peterson case?" It wasn't quite a … bark, but Kate snapped to attention and dutifully began to report.
Tony squinted at the fuzzy, pink mass that Gibbs had dropped into his open palm. Hesitantly he poked a fingertip into the fluffy softness.
"Yarn?" he shrugged up at Gibbs with an almost-convincing look of innocence.
Gibbs picked the offending booties up by one dangling tie and swung them pendulum-like in front of owlishly blinking eyes. A line appeared between Tony's brows as he tried to make out the foggy shape.
Letting out a sharp sigh and thinking that he would give Tony another day, maybe two, but if his vision didn't improve he was marching him straight to Sherri Lenz, Gibbs turned Tony's left hand palm up again, dropping one bootie squarely before leading the fingers of the right around the frills of the edge. Tony traced the shape twice before a – Gibbs could only call it evil – grin lit his face.
"You trying to tell me you're having our baby, Gibbs?" he whispered.
A not-unexpected soft smack ruffled his hair.
"Wasn't me," Tony swore, handing the booties back with a smile before his expression turned serious. "You ready to talk about it now?"
Having managed to derail the conversation about Tony's father last night and again this morning, Gibbs knew he was running out of time.
"When we get home," he promised. "Right now I need you to find out what you can on a submarine commander named Christian Latherow. Kate thinks she's come up with something on the Peterson case. I'm waiting for Abby to check ballistics."
"When we get home," Tony repeated, skeptically waiting for verification.
"I promise."
"One sub commander named Latherow," Tony picked up the headset, apparently satisfied. "You got it."
Engrossed in the data that Tony had managed to dig up on Latherow, Gibbs didn't even notice the shadow darkening his desk. He scratched briefly at one ear, but the alto humming that followed also failed to net his distracted attention. Finally Abby leaned closer, the Brahm's melody gaining lyrics.
Lullaby and goodnight
With pink roses bedight
She laughed when Gibbs actually startled.
"Abby …" he groused, running a hand through silvered hair.
He watched her pale fingers smooth down a baby-pink crocheted rosette.
Her almost-black lips puckered in consideration. "Hard to believe I ever wore pink, isn't it?"
Gibbs put two and two together and came up with the tri-part office grapevine of McGee, Abby and a certain medical examiner.
"Like he was gonna keep that to himself?" grinned Abby. "Ballistics are a match. Same gun that was used in '94."
"Good work," acknowledged Gibbs. He passed the tiny pastel booties back to her. "And take these with you." She held the offensive crocheting aloft. "Please," he added.
"Your father … we go together."
Tony stopped fumbling with his seatbelt. "That was quick." He leaned to the right as Gibbs reached over to snap it for him.
"Together, " Gibbs repeated. "This is our fight."
"I can live with that," said Tony, "As long as you realize it's my fight, too, and that the whole world isn't just balanced on your shoulders."
Gibbs started the car, palming the steering wheel at ten and two. "Are you likening me to Atlas, Tony?"
"Atlas was holding up the sky," Tony corrected, grinning when Gibbs huffed. "Prep school? Silver spoon? The rich are big on classical mythology."
"Statue? Big, round thing that looks like a ball," muttered Gibbs in retort.
"They thought the heavens were spherical and Atlas was supposed to have discovered astronomy, or astrology, or something."
"Does Ducky realize you know this stuff?" asked Gibbs, backing out of the parking space.
"Noooo," the word was stretched out.
"Would you like me to educate him?"
This answering "no" was more succinct.
"Both of us," reconfirmed Tony.
Gibbs held out a hand and Tony threaded his, finger to finger, into the warmth.
"Both of us."
(tbc)
Again with the apologies. Sorry it's so short. Sorry I didn't get to everyone's feedback. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Blush. RL should be clearing up shortly. Thanks to C andAly for patience with trickles. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is still greatly appreciated!