CHAPTER 11

"What the hell's going on here?" Jethro demanded. He went for the dark-haired man who was grabbing at Tony, and knocked him to the floor with a sweep of his leg and a well-placed push. Tony turned towards him, confused, and listed dangerously to one side. Jethro grabbed Tony around the waist, just as his knees gave out. "Hey, I've got you."

Tony's eyes were wide with fear, but the moment he recognized Jethro, he smiled broadly. Flinging his arms around the silver-haired man's neck, he cried, "Jethro! Jeeeethro!"

The man on the kitchen floor was starting to get to his feet, angry and swearing, but Jethro wasn't listening, he was so focused on Tony, who was acting like he was drunk. The FBI agent intervened, which was a good thing, because if he hadn't placed himself between them, Jethro would have taken another shot at the guy. He could have done it, too, even with a heavy Tony in his arms.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded the dark-haired man, a fierce look in his eyes.

"You the one who got him drunk?" Jethro countered.

"I'm not…not drunk," Tony insisted, with a burp.

"I'm his friend. I didn't get him drunk. He only had one glass, and who are you to barge in and–"

The FBI agent placed a warning hand on the man's chest and said, "Please, Mr. Tozier. Let me handle this."

Tony got his legs underneath him, though he was still leaning heavily on Jethro. "Stop shouting…we're dancing. We need some music if we're gonna dance. You like dancing, Jethro? My fingers like to dance." He blinked slowly, his eyes unfocused. "Oh…I think I'd better…sit…"

"Where's the bedroom?" Jethro demanded, seeing that Tony was about to pass out any moment. The FBI agent pointed towards an open door across the hall, and Jethro got a good grip on Tony and half-dragged him in that direction. "You keep that man secure," Jethro ordered.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Tony!" The young man was doing his best to get past Agent Brown, but the big man was as solid as a wall.

Brown took hold of Rob's arm. "Take it easy, Mr. Tozier."

"Take it easy? He hit me! He has no right!"

"Let's sit down and take a deep breath," Brown said firmly, directing the angry man to a kitchen stool.

Jethro didn't listen to any more of their conversation. He was too concerned about Tony, who was so drunk his eyes were crossing.

"We goin' t' the be'room?" Tony asked, stumbling alongside his rescuer. "We goin' t' bed? I like bed. I'd like it even more if you're in bed wi' me, Jethro."

"Just walk," Jethro ordered. He was pissed at the FBI agent for not stepping in earlier, pissed at the man who'd gotten Tony drunk, and pissed at Tony for allowing it to happen in the first place. At that point, it sunk in that the FBI agent had called the man who'd had his hands all over Tony, 'Mr. Tozier.' Was that Robert Tozier? The brother of the madman who'd kidnapped and tried to murder Tony?

"What is Tozier doing here?" Jethro demanded of Tony, even though it looked like he wasn't in any shape to reply.

"Who? Oh…Robbie? We're best friends," Tony said with a fond smile.

Jethro maneuvered Tony to the bed and pretty much dumped him on it. Tony pulled Jethro down with him, his arms still around his neck. He was grinning in a foolish way that made Jethro want to smile back at him and slap his head at the same time. He did neither, telling himself to remain in control. "You can let go now, Tony."

"Noooo, don' wan' to."

Jethro had a hell of a time extricating himself from Tony's grip. Once he had peeled Tony's arms from around him, he was able to step back and let out a big breath.

Tony was frowning and mumbling, "No…don't go…have you seen my fingies? They're flying aroun' here somewhere…" Tony raised his head and looked around. "Where's Rob? I'm thirsty." He peered at Jethro and asked, very politely, "Would you like to stay for lasa…lasa…dinner?"

Jethro leaned over the bed, anxious that Tozier may have drugged, or even poisoned, Tony. "Tony, did Tozier give you something? He put something in your drink?"

Tony was getting grabby, his hands wandering all over Jethro's body, tugging at his shirt like he wanted something. "Jeth…ro… Jethro?"

"I'm right here."

Tony blinked a couple of times and then smiled. "Oh. Good. I had a really crappy week and you weren't here… You di'n't call. Di'n't come over or anything. I called lotsa times…'n' you nev'r answered me." He pulled at Jethro's belt and started fiddling with the buckle.

Jethro removed the insistent hand from his belt, and tried to get through to the inebriated man. "Tony, I need you to listen to me."

"I'm list'ning. How're the horses?" Tony laid a hand on Jethro's thigh and looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes. "You goin' home? Have t' take care of 'em…You're good at takin' care of horses. And people. People like me. Anyone ever tell you that?"

Disturbed by the hand on his leg, as well as his dick's instinctive reaction to it, Jethro asked impatiently, "Tony, how much did you have to drink?"

After scrunching up his face, Tony held up one finger. "Twooo. One bourbon. And…twooo pills."

"Jesus. What kind of pills, Tony?"

Tony acted as if he didn't hear him. "I gotta get dinner…Rob 'n' me…Rob's my friend, ya know. You wanna eat with us?" Tony rolled over, and had his legs over the side of the bed before Jethro caught him and pulled him back.

"Where you think you're going?" Jethro called over his shoulder, "Hey, Agent…" Hell, what was the guy's name? "Agent Brown!"

Agent Brown appeared in the doorway, alert, with his cell phone in hand. "Yes, sir?"

"You find out what he put in Tony's drink?" Jethro barked. "And stop calling me 'sir.'"

"Rob di'n't give me anything," Tony mumbled, squirming a little when Jethro laid a hand on his chest to get him to stay put.

"Mr. Tozier didn't put anything in the Congressman's drink, sir. I mean Agent Gibbs…Mr. Gibbs. I was in a position where I'd have seen it." Brown looked worriedly at Tony and said, "Does he need to go to the hospital?"

Tony struggled into a sitting position and protested loudly, "Fuck no! No hos…hospital."

Agent Brown eyed Tony while he said, "I saw Mr. DiNozzo take his prescription medication about half an hour ago."

"With bourbon?" Jethro fumed.

Tony slapped Jethro's chest a couple of times. "They're jus' pain pills. M' neck hurt. Feels sooo good now."

Jethro wasn't going to believe that Rob Tozier was innocent until he had proof. "You talk to Tozier?"

"He's in the kitchen, but–"

Jethro snarled, "But nothing! You go keep an eye on him until we sort this out. Hell, handcuff him to something. I'll be there in a minute."

Agent Brown left to keep an eye on Tozier.

Jethro turned his attention back to Tony, who was lying there with a bemused look on his face. Tony blinked slowly and whispered, "Jethro?"

"I'm right here, Tony," Jethro responded, worried about Tony's strange expression.

"Jethro…" Tony took a fistful of Jethro's shirt, and before Jethro knew what was happening, Tony raised his head as he pulled Jethro down to meet him, and kissed him full on the mouth.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

There was something so heart-poundingly sexy about an angry, righteous Jethro Gibbs, that Tony wondered why he had never seen it before. Yeah, sure, he'd known that the man had an aura of strength and integrity about him that was incredibly compelling, plus he had that 'don't mess with me' and 'I'll protect you at all costs' vibe that made Tony want to stick by the man's side forever.

When Tony had escaped from his kidnapper and ended up at Jethro's farm, and Jethro had taken him in, Tony had somehow known that everything would be all right. Jethro had given him strength, and the hope that he was going to survive the experience, despite almost dying at the hands of a lunatic.

But this feeling that Tony was experiencing now, lightheadedness and a dry mouth coupled with his heart beating out of his chest, this was due to more than some alcohol and pills. Tony realized that this was a decisive turning point in his life, and that it had been brought about by Jethro Gibbs. Jethro was causing this turmoil, and whatever Tony was presently feeling for the man, it went way beyond being grateful or appreciative for sticking by him, and saving him from certain death. What Tony was feeling was something he'd never dealt with before – a deeply sexual, damn-the-consequences, all-out hunger, the kind that consumes you if you don't give into its inexorable pull – and this desire was not for a woman, but for a man.

He didn't plan the kiss. In fact, he'd never considered having a relationship with a man, not beyond the kind of connection he had with Rob, and they'd been friends for years. Was it true then, what they say? That you're either straight, gay or lying? Okay, so Tony may have looked speculatively at Rob a couple of times, but in truth, despite the fact that Rob was handsome and funny, and smart, it had never entered Tony's mind to go any further than checking out his ass a couple of times. And yet with Jethro it just felt so different, even though they'd only met on two occasions, neither of them being what you might call under good circumstances.

One thing Tony knew, that Jethro was important to him. Jethro moved him, touched his heart in a way he'd never before experienced. He was positive that this thing between them was not something that was going to go away, nor was it to be dismissed lightly.

It was as though he had awakened from a long slumber, and now he could see clearly, and maybe even accept that things did not have to be as they'd always been. The future didn't have to be all mapped out, didn't have to follow a prescribed set of actions. The possibilities were endless, and beautiful, and full of soft, enticing lips, Tony thought as their mouths met.

There was barely any hesitation before Jethro made a small sound, and angled his head, deepening the kiss. Tony accepted him with a whimper. With heat and desire, wet tongues slid between parted lips, hands explored, seeking and finding bare skin, smooth and unnaturally warm under layers of clothing. After a mere caress to his hair, Tony's world narrowed. Blood pounded in his ears as Jethro's hands clutched at his hips and pushed him into the mattress. There was nothing even remotely soft about the aroused body pressing against his own, all heavy muscle and bony knees. Fingers bit into his biceps, holding him in place as he squirmed in pleasure from the hungry, almost desperate kisses they were sharing. Aroused beyond measure, his hips rising off the bed to meet Jethro's body, Tony moaned.

Jethro broke the kiss, pushing at Tony's shoulders, panting, his eyes dark. Tony's sound of protest seemed to break the spell. Jethro blinked a couple of times, and looking as if he just realized that he'd done something terribly wrong, he slid off the bed and stood there with a stunned expression.

The moment Tony started to speak, to plead with him to come back, Jethro turned and left the bedroom.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Work mode. Move right into work mode. That was the sensible thing to do right now. The only thing to do. Jethro stood in the hallway only long enough to wipe his mouth and take a few deep breaths. Don't think about Tony, or that kiss or…do not think about it. Okay, okay, he could do this.

Jethro strode into the kitchen and glared at Robert Tozier. Watching the man quell made Jethro feel better, justified. "Show me the medication he took," he instructed Agent Brown, who was just lowering his cell phone from his ear.

Brown handed Jethro a prescription medication bottle. "DiNozzo took two. I saw him." He swallowed when Jethro's hard eyes met his own. "Agent Fornell wants to talk to you."

Jethro squinted at the prescription label. Two tablets was okay, but there were dire warnings about dangerous interactions if taken with alcohol. "Damn it, Tony," he muttered. He took the phone from the FBI agent and, after a brief conversation with Fornell, they agreed that Jethro would call Ducky for advice.

Jethro stood in the doorway of Tony's bedroom so he could keep an eye on him while he called the retired ME. Apparently the combination of meds and booze had taken full effect; Tony was splayed out, snoring softly, not a care in the world. Jethro glared at the sleeping Congressman. "Needs a damned keeper." As soon as Ducky picked up, Jethro relayed Tony's status to him, speaking as succinctly as if he were working a case in the NCIS bullpen. He checked Tony's pulse when instructed to do so, and counted his respirations. Neither seemed a cause for alarm.

Ducky said, "It sounds as though your friend has been through a great deal over the past days. He may be exhausted. Can you easily rouse him? If so, he may not need advanced medical assistance. I would treat this as you might a bad concussion."

"Wake him every hour, you mean?" That would be preferable than dragging him to the ER. The press would have a field day with that: "Kidnapped Congressman Overdoses After Kidnapping Drama." Yeah, that would go down well.

"Exactly. If there is any sign of Mr. DiNozzo's mental status deteriorating, or if his breathing appears shallow, call an ambulance. If not, then he will most likely come out of this with nothing more than a considerable a hangover in the morning." Ducky offered, "I could make a house call…"

In the end, Jethro decided he'd call Ducky if he grew concerned. "Uh…Duck…"

"Yes, was there something else?"

Yeah, he'd made a fool of himself by kissing Tony, and he wanted more of the same. A lot more. Jethro shook his head. "No, there's nothing," he said with finality.

"I'm a night owl, so phone me any time," Ducky said before hanging up.

Jethro told Agent Brown to keep an eye on Tony while he interrogated Robert Tozier in the kitchen.

Although Tozier, who was handcuffed to the stove, seemed scared of Jethro, he held his ground. "Tony's my best friend. I'd never hurt him," Rob insisted after Jethro accused him of being negligent. "I didn't pay attention to what he was doing in the kitchen. I thought he was doing something with the dinner."

"Why are you here?" Jethro demanded.

"Tony invited me for dinner. Look, we were just talking. I don't know why you're giving me the third degree here, Mr.–"

Jethro glared at Tozier, keeping his fisted hands at his sides. "Your brother kidnapped Tony. He beat him, drugged him, kept him chained to a filthy bed for days while he waited for the ransom money to come. And then he tried to kill Tony. Your brother."

"He's not–"

"Why the hell would I trust you to be within a mile of Tony?"

Tozier was staring at Jethro, apparently just realizing that he was facing the man who had killed his brother. "He was my half-brother," Rob said in a taut voice. "And I had nothing to do with him."

Jethro studied Rob's face for a minute. "You knew what he was up to," he accused.

"No, no! I didn't know!"

Agent Brown called from the bedroom, "Gibbs, you'd better get in here!"

Jethro rushed into Tony's bedroom to find him puking into a trashcan that Agent Brown was holding for him. Trying not to strain his bad arm too much, Jethro helped support Tony until he was done, and then the two men got him on his feet and into the bathroom. They sat him on the toilet seat while Jethro ran a damp washcloth over his face.

In the bright lights of the bathroom, Tony appeared pale, and his eyes were still somewhat glazed, but when Jethro asked him, "Hey, you with me?" Tony nodded and said in a rough voice, "I hate bourbon."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't seem to like you much, either," Jethro replied. He kept a hand on Tony's shoulder, as he was swaying slightly. There was some vomit on Tony's shirt, and Jethro figured that this would be a good time to get Tony into something clean. Agent Brown found some loose sweats and a comfortable tee, and assisted in dressing Tony.

When Tony's torso was bared, Jethro felt Agent Brown stiffen at his side, and he realized the man hadn't seen Tony's many bruises before. After ten days or so, the bruises that spread across his chest and ribs, as well as his neck, were yellow and brown, some a greenish hue. All told, they did not look good.

Despite his inebriated and drugged state, Tony caught on to Brown's discomfiture, and patted him on the arm. "'S okay. Doesn't hurt…any more." He turned his eyes on Jethro as soon as they'd finished changing him, and said, "Gotta pee."

"I'll help you stand. Get his some water and Tylenol," instructed Jethro. He got Tony positioned in front of the toilet, and when he was done, was able to steer him back to bed without any help. Agent Brown returned, and handed Tony the glass of water and pills. As soon as Tony had taken them, he collapsed in bed with, "Night," mumbled into his pillow.

Brown looked at Jethro and gave a big sigh. "So, who takes the first watch?"

"How about you get Tozier the hell out of here, and I'll stay?"

"I don't know about–"

Jethro got in Brown's face. "I may not be a federal agent any longer, but I am armed, and believe me, I'm more than capable of protecting this man."

Agent Brown took a moment, but he nodded in agreement. "I'll make sure Tozier gets home, as soon as another agent arrives. Fornell's orders."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere," Jethro said.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Jethro had checked on Tony several times during the night, rousing him from a deep sleep, which was not easy, although light head-taps seemed to do the trick. Tony managed to mumble replies to Jethro's questions before going back to sleep each time. They weren't necessarily accurate, but he spoke lucidly enough to satisfy Jethro.

Agent Brown returned around midnight, relieving Agent Braunmeir, and settled down on a couch in Tony's den, close to the front door. He shared re-heated lasagna with Jethro sometime around two, and looked in on Tony afterwards, but otherwise left them alone.

Jethro ended up sleeping next to Tony in the big, extremely comfortable bed, though not by design. He started out propped up against the headboard, reading, but after taking some buffered aspirin to ease the pain his arm was giving him, he dozed off. When he woke up around 0700, it was to find Tony snuggled up next to him, his cheek against his chest, one hand clutching at his undershirt. The feeling of warmth that rushed through Jethro's body had nothing to do with the heat emanating from Tony's body, nor from the blanket that was draped across his legs. It was a good feeling, a little like the way he had felt when he'd woken up next to any one of his former wives, only better. Unable to fight it, he sighed and stroked Tony's hair, and when Tony mumbled and drooled a little on his chest, Jethro found himself smiling.

But Jethro knew this wasn't right, and that he was taking advantage of Tony's drugged-up state, so he gently extricated himself from Tony's hug, and rose from the bed without disturbing him. On a table in the hallway, he saw the red Marines hoodie he'd brought with him as a gift for Tony. He picked it up and considered taking it with him. In the end, Jethro returned to Tony's room and draped the hoodie over the end of the bed. Softly, he said, "So long, Tony," and left.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~