Few things before I start, first, wish me luck on my midterm tomorrow. And second (and more important) say a pray for my grandfather, please. He's being moved to the ICU for sepsis and jaundice. My mom told me he was stable, but he's eighty years old, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. So whatever your religion, it would mean the world to me.

Just like I said before, there will be some awkwardness in this chapter, of the sexual nature. And it keeps going in the next couple of chapters.

Chapter Six

Spano lived half an hour away from Keller in civilian housing. He lived in a good neighborhood in a really nice house. The place probably cost more than Tim and Ziva made in a year. Put together.

"A Navy judge could afford a place like this?" Ziva asked.

Tim shrugged. He had no idea how much a judge made, but he didn't think it was all that impressive. "Maybe he's a trust fund baby like Tony."

Ziva chuckled. Tim stared at her while she continued to giggle. His first thought was that she finally cracked. "What's so funny?"

Ziva looked at him incredulously. "Come on McGee, tell me you don't see it! The room, the money, the clothes!" Her voice got more animated the longer she spoke. Tim still wasn't following her line of thought. "Anthony Spano! Tony DiNozzo. How do you not see the correlation?"

Tim shook his head. "You think Spano is like Tony?"

"Yes!" She looked genuinely relieved that he figured it out. "Thank you, McGee."

Tim took another look around the room. He had never seen the inside of Tony's apartment, but he hoped that his partner had better taste than this. Tony was relatively gaudy, but his flashy style was still well put together. Spano looked like he just bought anything with at least a five figure price tag.

"I don't see it." He turned away just as Ziva's smile fell.

She chased after him as he entered the bedroom. A giant flat screen television hung on the wall over a cherry wood dresser. Was that real wood?

"Think about it McGee, Spano looks like Tony, he has the same flashy taste as Tony. And one could argue that Keller is exactly like Gibbs!"

"Except Gibbs was never an officer."

"If he stayed in the Marines, he would be! McGee, Spano and Keller are Tony and Gibbs' doppelgangers."

Tim was actually impressed that she even knew that word, although he wasn't suicidal enough to voice that thought aloud. "So, what are you saying that Gibbs and Tony should just wing it at Millworth Farms?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Of course not, McGee, but you have to realize that this assignment is probably choice for them."

*~*

Whack!

Jethro was going to kill him. Plain and simple. McGee was going to become his senior field agent by morning, because Tony DiNozzo was about to die.

Smack!

Jethro groaned. He had absolutely no idea that Tony could move around so much in his sleep. You'd think that after hitting the wall the first time he would've woken up. But he didn't. He was still dead to the world, but he couldn't stay in one position for more than five seconds. And one of his limbs kept smacking into the wall. Or the floor. Or the bed.

And one time he hit the phone, Jethro still wasn't sure how he managed that one.

Another smack against the wall. Jethro tossed his pillow over his head. He was a pretty odd sleeper. He could sleep on a charter flight to Columbia when the plane was shaking up a storm while his agents vomited next to his ear, but he couldn't sleep in a relatively silent and still room while someone kept kicking the damn wall.

Thud!

"DiNozzo!" He shouted.

Tony snorted, most likely jerking awake. "Yeah boss?" He slurred, his speech heavy with sleep.

"Get up here." Silence followed that statement.

Seconds later, a head popped up over the mattress. Tony's hair was sticking up every which way. That cute thing it always did whenever Tony fell asleep at the office.

He suppressed the cute thought, claiming temporary insanity due to lack of sleep.

"Wha?" Tony left off the 'T'.

"I can't sleep if you're gonna be down there banging on the wall, so get your butt up here." He jerked his arm to his chest to further emphasize his point.

At first his senior agent didn't move. He was most likely trying to figure out if he was hearing his boss correctly. Jethro really couldn't blame him. It wasn't every day that he offered to share his bed with another man, especially his underling. But he wanted sleep, and this was the only thing he could think of to achieve that goal.

Tony finally crawled on top of the mattress. He pulled his pillows and blankets with him. He didn't share Jethro's bedding, he had his own separate set. He wouldn't meet Jethro's eye, he just kept staring up at the ceiling. "I appreciate this, boss." His eyes were wide and scared for another minute. It probably didn't help to have Jethro leaning over him, watching him.

"DiNozzo."

"Yes boss."

"Close your eyes."

"On it, boss." His eyelids snapped shut.

Jethro watched him lie there with a smile on his face. It wasn't his usual dangerous grin. It wasn't even his proud grin. It was the smile he reserved only for moments like this. When his team did something that truly warmed the coldness in his gut.

Jethro could tell when Tony finally drifted off to sleep. Before, he was tense, probably aware of the way that his boss was watching him. But as he drifted away, the tension left his body, and a strange peace covered his face. Jethro wouldn't say that he necessarily looked younger. A better word, he supposed, would be softer. Any harshness or burden that Tony carried with him when he was awake disappeared.

The young agent hid behind jokes and goofy faces. But a lot of that was a cover. He was hiding how hurt, how worn out he was really getting. After the events in Somalia, Ziva was forced to see a councilor. It was understandable, she had been held prisoner for months. The indescribable things that happened to her… Jethro didn't know how she survived. But nobody told Tony that he had to see a therapist. He was drugged, imprisoned. Jethro watched through his sniper scope everything that happened to Tony, both before and after Saleem entered the room. One of Saleem's men took a metal pipe against his torso. But he never talked about it. He would bitch and moan for hours on end if he got a paper cut, but a pipe to the ribs, and he wouldn't open his mouth.

Tony threw his forearm over his eyes and breathed deeply. Jethro chuckled. He reached up and traced the lines across Tony's forehead. Tony moaned lightly and burrowed his head further into his pillow.

What the hell am I doing?

Jethro snapped his hand back. That was it, he was in desperate need of sleep. He plopped back down on his pillow and quickly shut his eyes.

He could still see Tony's sleeping face through his eyelids.

*~*

This wasn't a part of the plan. The plan was flawless, at least it was assumed to be. But now things started to unravel, and it didn't make the planner happy.

Things could be fixed, that was a given. It would require a little work, but the planner's goal would be reached.

The room disappeared behind closed eyelids. Deep breaths were taken to steady heavy shaking. The lover's musky scent still clung to the air.

A smile crept across the planner's lips as a new plan was starting to form. The lover was going to pay. One way or another, he was going to pay.

*~*

It wasn't the first time Jethro dreamed about sex. It wasn't even the first time he dreamed about sex with a man. But tonight was definitely more… graphic.

He had to find another position on the bed as his imagination ran wild. He couldn't see his partner's face, but he knew it was a man, he felt that much. There were sounds being made, but he couldn't make them out. Not that it really mattered, the only thing that he cared about was his release. Reaching that moment.

But it wouldn't come. No matter how much he pushed, no matter how close he felt, he wouldn't go overboard. It wasn't until that second that he actually realized he was dreaming.

His eyes didn't shoot open, he wasn't suddenly ripped from his unconsciousness, it was actually a much slower process. He was still deep in his dream, but he was aware of his surroundings. He could feel the bed underneath him, but he could still feel the buildup from his sex dream. Still his partner's face alluded him.

He didn't want to move. He knew if he moved he would lose the dream, and he didn't want to lose it until he saw the man's face. He wanted to see what man was bringing him to the verge of having the first wet dream since his teen years.

Then he noticed something. Under his palm, he didn't feel sheets. He felt something warm, soft. It was a hand. The events of yesterday flooded his mind again. The victims, the Farm, he and Tony going undercover.

Forcing Tony to share the bed with him.

His eyes flew open the same time that Tony's did. They stared into each other's wide eyes, much closer together than they were when they fell asleep. Jethro's hand rested protectively over Tony's.

Both men let out a yelp as they jumped out of bed. Well, Jethro jumped out of bed with a grace that he shouldn't have had this early in the morning. He grabbed his gun on the bedside table and directed it in Tony's general direction.

Tony, on the other hand, got stuck in a twist of blankets and sheets. He fell off the bed with a loud thump before standing back up. His boxers had ridden low on his hips. Jethro also noted that there was static electricity in the room. The legs on Tony's shorts rode up his thigh, leaving very little to the imagination.

He was also suffering from morning wood.

It took a great deal of willpower to not stare. "What the hell were you doing DiNozzo!"

"Me? What makes you think I did something?"

Instead of answering, Jethro glared. He didn't actually know how to answer that. He also didn't want to have this conversation. He lowered his gun after another minute.

"I need coffee." He turned around and headed for the bathroom. For some strange reason that he couldn't understand, the coffee pot was in the bathroom. It did help, though. He could take a shower while it percolated.

He elected a cold shower. He needed it after the dream that he had. But it only partially helped. He couldn't get the image of that faceless man out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he could remember every little detail. His body tingled.

He slapped the wall. He turned all of the hot water off until the coldness bit into his skin. It still took a while, but his cock finally settled back down. But it didn't help his anger. He knew who the faceless man was. He just didn't like it.

Ok, I made up some of the details about the Somalia trip, but I wanted to show a more physical sense of Tony's suffering on that assignment. I also hoped you liked the little interlude, there are gonna be a few more of those throughout the story, but I'm trying something a little different for me. Any ideas about who the killer is yet? So you think he/she's been introduced yet? Let me know what you think!