STORY TITLE: To the Last Round
CHAPTER TITLE: sweet torture
WORD COUNT: 2,925
DISCLAIMER: I do not own NCIS I only own my made up agents, and the made up murders within this story. Everything else belongs to the ever-lovely NCIS universe.
RATING: M = MATURE CONTENT EVENTUALLY (A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN GIBBS AND TONY—DON'T LIKE THEN DON'T READ)
CHAPTER TWO:
[ three months later ]
Gibbs growls, hitting the same key on his keyboard for the fifth time, but still the file would not pop up. Thomson and Matthews had left hours ago and were probably asleep by now but Gibbs had persisted in his usual way. The elevator dings in the silence of the practically barren floor. Like him, there are a few people scattered around, each of them catching up on paper work of some sort.
He barely registers the noise, only looking up when two pairs of feet stop in front of his desk. His eyes come up to connect with glimmering emerald irises, obviously happy to see him.
"Special Agent Gibbs, this kid was asking for you, and insisted that I take him to see you," the guard murmurs, his hand still resting lightly on the youth's shoulder.
"Don't worry about him Stan, I know him." Gibbs dismisses the guard with a tight-lipped smile, not quite sure, if he should be alone with the boy. "DiNozzo what are you doing here?" Gibbs' eyes drag over the ever-changing form of Tony, who even three months since the last time he saw him, is slightly taller, and already looks a tad bit older.
His inspection doesn't miss the dark black circle ringing the boy's right eye and sparking a warm pit of anger in the bottom of his stomach.
"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night with me…it's my eighteenth birthday and god knows my father isn't going to be doing anything." Tony awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, his hair also longer since his stepmother's murder. A slight bit of gel had been rubbed through giving him a stylish just-got-out-of-bed look. It suits him, Gibbs notes.
Thinking of Tony's stepmother, her murderer had been caught, but he had obviously been a hired killer. However, much to Jethro's anger, he could never find the evidence linking Tony's father to the contract killing. So, that bit of the case had been filed away in cold cases, for someone to finally figure out the missing link.
"What exactly are you expecting?" Jethro questions, his eyes having fallen back to the computer screen in frustration. He jabs the key a few more times, drawing the attention of Tony.
"I wasn't hoping for anything much, maybe you taking me to dinner, we chat about movies or football, you buy me a drink in celebration," all the while leaning over the desk and quickly typing the commands to bring up the file. Gibbs shoots Tony a look, almost allowing himself to smile when he sees the overconfident smirk on his face. "It doesn't need to be anything special; thanks to my father I haven't had a birthday in the past five years. So, even if it goes horribly wrong, it will still be better than all the rest," the brunette admits, quickly counting the years on his fingers.
Jethro grits his teeth in anger at the confession of Tony's mistreatment at his house, and the obvious nonchalance at his own father's shitty attitude.
Gibbs clicks the button on his computer monitor shutting it off and opens the drawer next to his desk. Tony watches with rapt attention as Jethro pulls out his gun and badge from the drawer.
"So, I'm guessing this means yes?" Tony asks excitedly, his face lighting up in happiness. Gibbs frowns slightly, being reminded suddenly of Tony's youth. Jethro could be his father, albeit a much better one, but deep down Jethro is still trying to find more reasons to deny the dinner with the boy in front of him. As much as he hates to admit, even to himself, his whole being yearns to give the boy at least one good birthday memory.
"What are you wearing?" Jethro questions, eyeing the matching navy blue blazer with red and navy striped tie and khaki pants. A bright crimson emblem on his chest pocket displays a jaguar clawing at a big embroidered 'B'.
"My school uniform, Brighton's Prepatory and Higher Education School of Learning for Young Men, or BPHESLYM, it helps if you just sort of spit it out as if you are sneezing." Tony murmurs, wondering where exactly someone got the shitty idea to name a school something so long and pretentious.
"That supposed to get you ready for Harvard…Yale?" Jethro questions as he leads them into the elevator. They stand almost uncomfortably close, Gibbs just now noticing Tony shouldering his book bag. "Did you not go home?"
"Actually, I don't want to go to either of those places, I'm more interested in becoming a cop…or doing what you do Gibbs…" Tony murmurs, ignoring the other question the older man had posed. "Needless to say, my father isn't very happy with my choices." A moment of silence falls in between them, but Gibbs can see the cogs whirling in the youth's head. "Gibbs, do you think cop school is like in Police Academy, the movie? I mean because if it is, that means it's going to be really fun!" Jethro eyes the youth warily, quite unsure which questions Tony actually wanted answers to, if he wanted answers at all.
The elevator finally stops at their level, and Gibbs leads the boy to his car, "okay, so I don't want to be seen with you in the uniform, it'll probably get me arrested, can you at least take off your jacket or something?" Jethro sighs, not the least bit surprised when Tony immediately pulls off his blazer and tugs a t-shirt out of his backpack. The blazer gets shoved into the confines of the bag and tossed on the floor of the passenger side of Gibbs' car.
Jethro nearly chokes as he watches Tony undo the button down shirt that had been under his jacket and toss that in the car too. In the next few minutes, Tony plops down in the seat, his blazer, and dress shirt traded in for a casual red polo. "All primped now DiNozzo?" Gibbs barks, turning the car on.
"Yes sir!" Tony answers cheekily, saluting the gruff man sitting next to him. Gibbs rolls his eyes, always amazed at kids resistance to his cold tone. "So where we going Gibbs?" Tony bounces excitedly next to him, his eyes seemingly not missing anything as they pass through the quiet streets.
"Well it's almost one in the morning, so we'll have to go to a friend's bar of mine that will be the only place open." Gibbs murmurs, having decided that would probably be the only place he could get Tony in at this time.
"Sounds awesome! He a marine buddy?" Tony questions unabashed.
"Yes, DiNozzo,"
They drive in silence, Tony staring wide-eyed out the window, as if he hadn't seen these streets before. In all possibility, he probably hadn't seen them at night. When dusk fell, the people changed from the ones seen wandering around during the daytime.
It took them twenty minutes to reach the bar, the open sign flashing in the front window that had drawn blinds. Cars littered the parking lot out front, easing some of the tension that had been building within Gibbs. At least there was a likable amount of people here, just enough that people wouldn't be bothered to eavesdrop on his conversation with the youth, and few enough that it wouldn't be a stuffy atmosphere.
Tony hurriedly stuffs his dress shirt in his bag, and throws the strap over one shoulder when he gets out of the car. Gibbs follows, throwing the boy a questioning look for bringing his bag along. Tony just smirks, not looking like he is going to reply. Jethro holds the door open for his young ward, rolling his eyes as he watches Tony stroll confidently in. Gibbs steers them to an open booth and sits down, however, Tony wanders off towards the bathroom.
The older man stares after him, but Tony doesn't turn around to offer an explanation for his sudden departure. Even a, "I need to take a shit," would have been nice Gibbs jokes to himself.
"Jethro!" A deep voice growls warmly, Gibbs looks up with a happy smile.
"Bobby, the bar scene still treating you well?" He stands to give the man a loose hug, happy to see his friend doing so well.
"You know it, hired myself some new bar keeps so that this old leg quits bothering me from overwork," Bobby Myers had almost had his leg shot off during one of his tours with Gibbs. Ever since the hospital had been unable to remove the slug, they reconstructed his leg and he had been in honorable discharge since that time over fifteen years ago. Now the man had some gnarly scars running up his left leg, but they fit his character.
"Oh really, you seeing anyone Bobby?" Gibbs asks lightly, he had gone through Bobby's wife leaving him for another man, and the poor guy had been ruined because he thought they had been meant to be together.
"Yeah, and they're treating me real nice." Bobby mellows out, a wistful smile playing across his features. "But more to the point, who was that boy who came in with you?"
"He's…" Gibbs looks to the bathrooms, eyes widening slightly as Tony emerges from the white door. The boy is still wearing the flattering red polo, but in place of the boring khakis are tight fitting jeans. Gibbs can already tell they hug his butt in all the right places, and can see how much emphasis they put on his crotch. "…He's the son of a friend, thought he might want to be a cop or work at NCIS." Jethro moves his eyes away from the boy sauntering over here, stealthily trying to hide the pleased look on his face. Bobby gives Jethro a skeptical look, telling Gibbs with his eyes that he doesn't believe him, and he's right. Tony isn't the son of a friend, he's not here to talk about what it's like to be an NCIS agent. No, this is purely pleasure, and completely wrong.
However, Bobby doesn't say anything. Tony throws his bag onto the floor, under the table of their booth, and sits down with a radiant smile.
"So whaddya want, looking for something to eat too?" Bobby asks, eyeing Tony mischievously.
"Yeah, bring us two burgers with fries and some of your finest bourbon for me and a coke with a dash of vodka for him." Jethro orders for them both, Tony goes to open his mouth, probably going to whine about wanting a real drink, but Gibbs shoots him a glare and DiNozzo shuts his mouth with a smirk.
"Got it Leroy." Bobby limps off, making his rounds to the other tables that held regulars to his bar. His voice carried around the room, warming the atmosphere considerably. When most people would be trying to drown their sorrows in drink, Bobby offered an ear for them to tell their troubles. He cared about people in general, and made sure everyone got home safe.
"So you're turning eighteen," Jethro murmurs letting his fingers run over the marks carved into the table by pens or pocketknives.
"At three am."
"So even as a baby you were a handful, getting delivered at three in the morning," Jethro murmurs, nodding thanks to the young man who brings both their drinks to the table. He takes a sip of his bourbon, allowing the taste to calm him even more.
Their talk lulls for a few minutes, Tony sipping his drink, all the while a small smile on his face.
"Here's your food boys!" Bobby exclaims, putting down the two plates. Tony digs in hungrily, mowing down his French fries in no time and then moving on to his burger. Jethro takes this time to watch him, unable to miss the bright glimmer in the youth's eyes and happy expression.
Tony finishes before him, and pushes the plate away, leaning back in satisfaction. "Do you play any sports?" Jethro asks, recalling the things Tony had said back at the NCIS office.
"Yeah, football and occasionally basketball." The brunette takes the last sip of his drink as he speaks, turning his full attention onto Gibbs.
"Any good?"
"Hell yeah, I'm the best quarterback Brighton's had in years!" Tony exclaims, fist pumping as he bounces for a second in the seat.
"Where do yah wanna go after this birthday boy?" Jethro asks, finishing off his food and his drink.
"Anywhere but home."
/
They continue talking for an hour, the time nearing three in the morning. Jethro keeps his eyes on the time, wondering what he should do with the kid when their time is up. Tony just exuded this friendly aura, that soon had Bobby joining them at the table and filling in the rare lulls in conversation.
During this time, Gibbs had broken down, and given Tony a steady stream of different colored drinks. The man carefully watching the youth for any signs of drunkenness, and quickly finds out that Tony is a happy drunk. The kind that just gets more talkative, and completely giggly. Even Bobby looks amused by the boy sitting in front of him.
At three am, the two men turn to Tony and pat him on the shoulder, each murmuring, "Happy Birthday sport."
Tony's cheeks flush in appreciation since he is unused to being treated so nicely. The most he ever got for a birthday was his friends at school taking him somewhere or the football team getting him a cake. Since his father is rich they all thought he had it great, but he never had the heart to tell them the truth.
Gibbs pays Bobby—much to the protest of the man wishing to give the boy the gift of a free meal—and herds Tony out of the bar once he was able to halt the conversation between the old bartender and his charge for the night. Jethro can tell that Bobby liked the boy, but that is obvious, anyone could come to love the comfort of Tony's easy presence.
"Where we going now boss?" Tony hops in the car, placing his bag in-between his feet.
"My house," Jethro had decided sometime during their dinner that it would be better to have Tony stay the night then possibly have him get caught sneaking back into his father's mansion.
"Cool," Tony mumbles, fumbling with the radio and looking for a suitable station. A station finally comes through that is playing oldies. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Elvis Presley float through the car, calming both men imperceptibly.
Tony leans slightly forward as they pull into Gibbs driveway, his eyes roving the dark exterior of the house.
"Well? Are you coming?" Gibbs barks, already heading towards the front stoop. Tony scrambles out of the car, catching up to stand behind the older man.
"On your six," the words bringing a ghost of a smile to Gibbs' face. "Do you not lock your door?" Tony questions when he realizes Jethro hadn't even pulled out a key.
"Never had anything anyone would want to steal." His answer is short and concise, but Tony knows that no one would dare rob his place. Just the aura that surrounded the house made Tony think a passerby would get a chill as they walk in front of the house. "What time does school start?"
"0820," Tony mock salutes Gibbs, trailing after the older man heading up the stairs.
"Here's the guest room, make yourself comfortable." Jethro gestures to the door across the hall from his and waits until Tony has thoroughly looked around the room and made himself comfortable. "I'll wake you up at seven-thirty to get there in time."
"…Gibbs?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks,…for everything. This is the best birthday I've ever had." Tony admits sheepishly.
"Happy birthday Tony." Jethro closes the door softly, heavily treading across the hall to his own room and heaving himself into the routine of getting ready for bed. He strips himself out of his clothes, carefully folding them before putting them in the hamper, and putting his shoes off to the side in tidy order. Jethro picks up his pajamas, which consist of a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt with MARINE written across the chest. He brushes his teeth and takes a leak before popping some Advil for the morning hangover sure to come. This action suddenly reminds him that Tony would have a bitch of a hangover tomorrow; grabbing the bottle, he trudges back across the hall to his guest bedroom. Just as he is about to knock, a low groan sounds, followed by a few harsh pants. His fingers rest against the door lightly, accidentally pushing the wood a few inches in. Jethro's eyes connect with the bed, his brain telling him to look away, but his need driving him on.
There on the bed, a shirtless Tony, the only piece of clothing on him being his boxers, but those are around his calves. His knees are slightly bent, his head thrown back in pleasure. Tony's hand is wrapped around his shaft, pumping to the time of his moans.
Gibbs nearly drops the bottle of Advil, but aware that the noise would alert Tony he backs up quickly. Jethro doesn't want the night to be ruined by Tony finding out he is a dirty old pervert. He retreats to his room, dick hard in his boxers aching against the front seam.
"This kid's going to be the death of me."
OHMYGOD, everyone thanks for the sweet sweet sweet and wonderful comments!
They mean the world to me!
Anyways, tell me what you think about this chapter! I quite like it...maybe the whole idea that Gibbs actually gives Tony a good memory for his birthday for once.
- alex (love you guys!)