I took your (the reviewers) point into consideration, and I found myself agreeing. I will, however, not add more to this story. Thank you.
The dinner had been delicious.
The company had been... alright.
She had greeted them at the door, her usual serious frown had morphed into a warm, welcoming smile as she ushered them through the door. The apartment was a reflection of the young woman to the dot. There wasn't a singly article of clothing lying on the floor, not even a speck of dust. The dining table was set with such perfection Gibbs had wondered; for only a slight second, if he was underdressed.
As the evening progressed, the food served and the wine bottle opened, Gibbs couldn't help but notice that someone was missing. Apparently, he wasn't the only one.
Halfway through the dinner Abby had asked with a bubbly voice if the infamous Anthony DiNozzo had a really hot date that night, since he wasn't there.
Ziva had averted her eyes for a second; too fast for a normal person to notice, but not too fast for Gibbs to notice. She had shrugged her petite shoulders, giving a sad smile, saying she had offered him an invitation, but he had declined.
Gibbs had narrowed his eyes. Tony would never decline an invitation to go to his partner's home. Tony had been trying very hard – maybe a little too hard – to get to know the Israeli woman.
He had let the thought go; he had trusted Ziva to tell the truth.
No one had questioned her, and moved on throughout the night in a happy mood; drinking and laughing merrily together. Well, Gibbs obviously didn't 'laugh merrily', but he was content sitting there watching his team socialize together. Tony flittered across his mind several times, the phone in his pocket felt heavier the later the hour became.
It had been quite obvious Ziva hadn't invited Tony the next day when Gibbs stalked into the bullpen. He could see the disappointment swimming deep inside those green eyes.
Everyone did mistakes.
Gibbs decided then and there that he had made a mistake trusting Ziva not to lie.
He kept his tongue throughout the day. He was busy finding his two wayward agents who had managed to lock themselves inside a container filled with alleged explosives. As the hours grew darker and Ziva and Tony still weren't found, Gibbs' emotional walls cracked. The fear and anxiety had washed over him like a raging tsunami.
Gibbs had managed to keep himself from hugging his two agents as they got out from the container.
The anger then came rushing forth with a vengeance. Why did they always make him feel like this? No one was supposed to make him feel.
Not since Shannon and Kelly. He didn't deserve it.
Regret had burned through his body when he sat in the car that night. He felt like groaning out load, hitting his head on the steering wheel. He didn't, of course; he had more self control then that. But obviously not enough to curb his anger at his agents; and certainly not enough from stopping the wicked words and smile that had flittered across his face in the bullpen that night.
The look on Tony's face was burned into Gibbs' brain. The look of shock and hurt was going to stay with him for a long while. He knew it.
As he stepped into his home, heading directly to the kitchen to put on some coffee, Gibbs decided he needed to apologize to the younger Italian man. Of course he wouldn't say it out load; a sign of weakness, after all.
He would make it up to the man that had made a place for himself inside Gibbs' jaded heart. Steak and beer would do it. Knowing Tony, there would probably a film playing on the outdated TV at some point during the evening.
Drinking up the mug of scorching coffee, Gibbs decided to go do what he did every night; tend to his beloved boat. Or what was going to be a boat someday.
It didn't take very long before he heard his front door being opened and heavy steps stopping in his sitting room. As the footsteps progressed to his basement door, Gibbs couldn't stop the smile that flitted across his face.
He could recognise those footsteps everywhere. Tony was here.
He continued doing what he was doing; sanding the wood that would someday be the bow of the boat.
The silence that fell over them wasn't strained, it was comfortable. Something familiar that warmed them both. Gibbs heard the younger man sigh. Acting on impulse, Gibbs picked a jar filled with screws, dumped them on the workbench and filled the jar up with the bourbon he had hidden down there.
As he walked towards his agent; his friend, Gibbs; yet again, couldn't stop the smile that flitted across his face.
He would make it better; he promised himself.
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