CHAPTER 2

(You're So Square) Baby I Don't Care
~Elvis song

You don't like crazy music.
You don't like rockin' bands.
You just wanna go to a movie show,
And sit there holdin' hands.
You're so square.
Baby, I don't care.

I don't know why my heart flips.
I only know it does.
I wonder why I love you, baby.
I guess it's just because
You're so square.
Baby, I don't care.

The closest Tony had ever come to quitting was four months ago, due to the mishandling of the Domino operation.

Gibbs had actually told him: "It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I didn't let you in because I didn't have to."

Tony had barely held his temper in check. "We came that close to being killed. A heads-up would have been nice."

Gibbs, standing straight as a rod, had glared at Tony and stated that he stood by his decision. Tony didn't take it well, and in retrospect, he realized that it probably wasn't a great idea to shout at the boss. Gibbs had muttered something about cooling off and stalked from the room before either of them threw any punches. It was a close call though.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

For two long weeks, Tony wore his sharpest suits, and buckled down to work while he blatantly avoided looking directly at Gibbs, and kept all communication to a minimum. As for Gibbs, he conducted business as if there was nothing going on between him and Tony, when it was obvious that there was. Ziva and McGee kept pushing Tony to fix whatever was wrong, wherein Gibbs snapped at them for harassing Tony and threatened them, "If you don't find something constructive to do in the next five seconds, I'll put you on latrine duty." After that they kept out of it, although McGee cast not-too-subtle worried glances at his boss and Tony.

When it looked as though neither man was going to offer a truce anytime soon, and Gibbs became so grouchy that even Director Vance avoided him, Ducky took Gibbs and Tony out for a meal. If the food was good, the company was not. Gibbs said barely a word. Tony made up for it by chatting a little too brightly. As the awkward dinner progressed, Ducky told them engaging stories that centered upon themes of trust and lifelong friendships, and he mused about how some people were blind to what was right in front of them.

When he finished his meal, and the accompanying tales, Ducky calmly rose from the table and announced that he had had a long day, and was heading home. "You two should remain here and discuss whatever is causing your current animosity."

"Is that an order, Ducky?" Gibbs asked, his tone dangerous.

Ducky wasn't fazed by Gibbs' attitude. "It is a suggestion, one you should heed before your differences tear apart your friendship, as well as your ability to work together. I hope you realize this affects everyone around you? Good evening, gentlemen."

As soon as Ducky left, Gibbs sighed and asked Tony, "You want another drink?"

Tony shook his head. "School night. My boss wouldn't like it."

Gibbs took a breath before saying, "Yeah, well, the boss is an asshole at times. Just have a damned drink."

Tony couldn't have been more surprised at Gibbs' admission. He could have teased him about it, or asked if it was an apology of sorts, but instead Tony nodded and led the way to the bar. One drink was followed by another, and eventually the two men started talking and hashed out their grievances.

Gibbs allowed that he'd been wrong to send Tony into a dangerous situation without adequate background information or backup. "Shoulda kept you in the loop. You coulda got hurt," he said, sounding troubled and somewhat angry.

"Ziva disobeyed a direct order to stand down." Tony rarely said anything against his colleagues, but this time it seemed necessary.

"It's already in her file," Gibbs said.

Another surprise. Tony hadn't expected that; he'd thought Gibbs hadn't even paid attention to his report, filed as soon as he'd been released from the hospital, after being bashed in the face with the butt of a gun. Now that he had Gibbs' ear, Tony figured it was a good time to get it all out. "You need to trust me, Gibbs."

Gibbs looked surprised. "I do."

"Then you need to remember that the T in MCRT is for team," Tony emphasized.

Gibbs sighed impatiently. "Yeah, I know. Sometimes I need reminding."

"And that's where I come in," Tony said with a nod.

"Why'd you think I've kept you around so long?" Gibbs drained his glass and looked at Tony. "We done?"

Smiling, Tony nodded. "Yeah. We're good."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

A couple of days before Christmas, Gibbs surprised Tony by asking him to spend the holidays at his home. He did it in his usual backhanded way. "You coming over?"

"When?"

Gibbs cast a look at Tony that suggested he thought Tony was purposely playing dumb. "Christmas. No point in you being alone on the other side of town."

Tony stiffened, acting affronted. "You're assuming I don't have plans."

"Well do you?" Gibbs asked with a knowing smirk.

"Well, no, but that's not the point."

"No?"

Tony frowned at Gibbs and then asked, "Do you have a Christmas tree?"

"Nope. Got a couple of prime steaks though."

Tony made a show of thinking it over. "Well…I guess I could come for steak. I get to choose the movie we watch, right?"

Gibbs nodded in agreement. "And I get to choose if I watch it or not."

Tony quickly said, "Don't worry, I'll find a movie you'll like. You have to at least try to watch it. For me." Gibbs reluctantly agreed, and Tony felt as if he'd won a major battle.

On Christmas Eve, they settled down on Gibbs' old couch to watch Joyeux Noel, a 2005 French film about an unofficial Christmas truce on the front lines of WWI in 1914. Gibbs enjoyed the movie, and Tony enjoyed watching Gibbs enjoy it.

As soon as Tony rose and said he was going to bed, Gibbs pulled out a pillow and blanket and tossed them on the couch. Tony eyed the sleeping set-up and asked, "You sure you don't want to take one of the beds upstairs? Better for your back."

"I sleep here," Gibbs said, as if that was the end of the conversation. He added another log to the fire and poked at it.

"Okay, well, Merry Christmas, Gibbs," Tony said, wondering why Gibbs didn't turn around to at least say good night to him. When Gibbs switched off the light without saying a word, Tony headed for the stairs, suddenly feeling quite lonely.

Just then Gibbs said abruptly, "We're leaving at zero-five-hundred tomorrow."

Tony took a few steps back into the living room. Gibbs was standing in the near-dark, outlined by the glow of a streetlamp. His eyes were on Tony, waiting for an answer, even though he hadn't asked anything.

"Leaving?" Tony inquired.

Gibbs said, "Stillwater. Gotta see my dad."

Wondering if he'd missed something, Tony asked, "On Christmas morning?" Did the 'we' mean Gibbs and Tony? Was he really being invited along? He'd love to see Gibbs' dad again; the last time had been way too brief.

"You coming or not?"

Tony smiled happily. "Sure. You know I wouldn't miss the chance to see Jackson again."

"Turn out the hall light," Gibbs said, ending the stilted conversation. He stripped off his trousers and shirt and climbed into his makeshift bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulder.

"Good night, Boss," Tony said softly as he started up the stairs. He wasn't sure if the muffled grunt he heard from Gibbs was a 'good night,' but he liked to think it was.

When Gibbs had stopped for gas at a truck stop on the way to Stillwater, Tony had bought chocolates and nuts, a bright red travel mug that heated your beverage, a couple of cinnamon-scented candles, a boxed set of holiday DVDs, and six lottery tickets. Most of the small gifts went to Jackson (wrapped in a map of Virginia), but the mug was for Gibbs, and he divided the lottery tickets between the three of them. Jackson seemed genuinely happy to receive the small items and his son immediately tested out the heated coffee mug.

Tony was thrilled to spend Christmas with Gibbs and his father. Jackson Gibbs more than made up for his son's apparent lack of holiday spirit; his house was decked out with a big Christmas tree covered in ornaments, and there were freshly cut pine boughs and decorations everywhere. For the first time in many years, Tony enjoyed a real family Christmas, with good food, homey decorations, and the exchange of simple gifts.

That evening, they sat in comfortable old chairs in front of the fire, and Jackson pulled out a battered ukulele and sang White Christmas. Although Jethro made out that he didn't like the noise, Tony saw his lips moving during the refrain. The best thing of all was hearing Jackson tell stories of Jethro-as-a-boy. Seeing the boss's cheeks redden with embarrassment made the all-too-brief visit just about perfect.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

A couple of weeks later, prior to the murder of Special Agent Patterson, Gibbs gave Tony free rein with the Renny Grant investigation. Tony concluded it was equal parts of Gibbs proving he trusted Tony, and the rest was enforcing rule #45: Clean up your own mess. Concluding the case in his own way had given Tony a much-needed boost of confidence, which had diminished somewhat in the wake of Jenny's death. Being isolated out at sea, separated so abruptly from the only family he'd known, had taken a lot out of him. With the case wrapped up, Tony allowed Renny Grant to make off with enough money to compensate for being wrongly imprisoned, and best of all, Gibbs seemed okay with it, and actually smiled at him, which was huge. It seemed as though things were finally looking up.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

"You want to eat?"

"Sure. Can I cook for you?" Tony was good at a few Italian dishes, and he liked to show off his culinary skills, which included creating the perfect sauce for his homemade pasta.

After a pause, during which Gibbs seemed to be weighing his options, he asked, "Your place?"

"You can bring something to drink," Tony suggested, sure it would be beer, but not really minding. He immediately started going over recipes in his mind, trying to decide what Gibbs would enjoy the most.

Gibbs surprised him by bringing a bottle wine that was not only a decent vintage, but complimented the meal. "Not bad," Gibbs said after sipping the wine.

"This is nice," Tony said.

Gibbs shifted in his seat. "The girl in the wine shop helped me."

Tony chuckled. "The wine is good, but I meant the company was nice." Tony smiled at the slight blush climbing Gibbs' neck. Gibbs raised his glass in a silent toast, and Tony could clearly see the happiness in his eyes. He smiled back, finding his own face heating up. It felt as though they were treading down a new road, and although he wasn't sure where it was going to take them, Tony had a feeling it was towards something good.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

"Got an extra ticket to the Wizards game."

"You sure you don't want to take Fornell?" Tony asked.

"Why the hell would I ask him? Look, if you don't want to go…"

Gibbs turned away but Tony snatched one of the tickets out of his hand. "I want to go," he said quickly, clasping the ticket to his chest.

"Then stop playing games," Gibbs responded, sounding testy. "Pick you up at 1800."

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

One cold Sunday morning, Gibbs called Tony for a ride to the Y, where he sometimes played pick-up basketball. "Truck's acting up," was the reason.

When he got to Gibbs' house, Tony offered to look at the truck, to which Gibbs replied testily, "If I wanted you to look at my truck, I'd have asked you to look at my truck, DiNozzo. I asked for a ride to the Y."

"Geez, okay, okay!" Tony said, holding his hands up in defense.

Gibbs looked at Tony's loafers. "You need sneakers if you're gonna play."

"I'm going to play?" Tony asked. Gibbs played with older jarheads as a rule, and he'd never been invited to join in before.

Gibbs asked, "You'd rather sit on the bleachers with the wives?"

"Depends on how cute they are," Tony retorted, and when it looked like Gibbs was about to head slap him, he quickly stepped out of the way. "You do that on the court, and I'll have the ref throw you out of the game," he threatened.

"Who the hell d'you think is gonna be the referee?" Gibbs asked with a roll of the eyes.

"Me? I can't wear stripes, Boss!"

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Gibbs phoned Tony at 0600 on their first day off in weeks. "I'll bring the coffee."

Still bleary with sleep, Tony rubbed his eyes. "Huh?"

"Coffee," Gibbs said, as if that explained everything.

"We got a case, Boss?" Tony sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his head and yawned.

There was a muttered expletive on the other end of the line, and then Gibbs said, slowly, "You wanted to go for a run. Be here in twenty or else I'm going without you."

Oh yeah, they'd talked about running together before leaving work last night. There were trails around the lake near Gibbs' home, where they liked to run when the weather, and Gibbs' knees, were agreeable.

For a moment, Tony considered his options. He could go back to sleep, which he needed really badly after a couple of back-to-back cases, or he could work up a sweat with Gibbs. Tony imagined watching the older man's well-muscled legs and ass, hard at work, as he trailed along behind him. "I'll be there in fifteen," Tony said, hanging up abruptly and rushing to get dressed.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Sometimes, when Gibbs tackled some of the bigger jobs around his house, he'd ask Tony to lend a hand. Together they cleaned the gutters of fall leaves, replaced the hot water heater, and they sealed Gibbs' driveway on what had to have been the hottest May Day on record. Tony whined non-stop for an hour when he discovered that the tarry sealant splattered on their arms and legs was a bitch to remove. Gibbs ordered him to hold still while he rubbed Tony down with a filthy rag that smelled as though it was soaked in kerosene. It did the trick, but it dried out Tony's skin so badly he had to apply a liberal amount of moisturizer for the next few days.

While they worked around his house, Gibbs gave Tony orders, much as he did while on the job. At home though, his directions were tempered with encouragement and the rare smile. Although Tony didn't care much for the actual chores, simply being in Gibbs' company made it seem worthwhile.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

It meant a great deal to Tony that Gibbs liked his company outside of work. Being with Gibbs afforded Tony experiences he'd never had with his own father: friendship, companionship, and someone who actually cared about him.

They went camping a couple of times, took in the horse races at Laurel Park, and checked out the car rally just south of Frostburg. In September they hung out with some of Gibbs' old Marine buddies at the annual VA Center Dinner, where Tony helped dole out the food and took a lot of guff for having worked for Gibbs for so long.

Gibbs took Tony along when he spent an entire day scouring marine junkyards up the coast for some obscure engine part for his sailboat's two-cylinder diesel. On the way home they enjoyed a crab dinner on the deck of a no-star restaurant that had a four-star view of the water. They had a good meal, even engaged in a real conversation in which Gibbs talked in complete sentences. By the time they'd polished off a bottle of cheap but good wine, they were both laughing over something – Tony wasn't sure what had started it – and when Gibbs threw his head back in laughter, Tony thought it was just about the best thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, back in his own bed, Tony smiled at the memories. It had been a great end to the day, and the setting sun over the water had seemed almost romantic. Or it would have been romantic if one of them had been of the opposite sex. Or, if they'd been the same sex and were interested in each other, Tony thought dreamily – then it would have been perfect.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~