CHAPTER 18

Tony closed the back door behind him and called out, "Hey Lucy, I'm home!"

He only took a couple of steps into the hallway when he came to an abrupt halt. Jethro was down on his hands and knees, rummaging around in the mudroom closet. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Shoes," Jethro replied, his voice muffled.

"I managed to wrap things up early, and left before the Beltway got jammed up." Tony admired Jethro's rear end, while he loosened his tie. "I'm gonna get a beer. You want one?"

Something that sounded like it might have been a 'No,' followed by an annoyed grunt was all the answer Tony got.

"You want help?" Tony asked, amused at the sight of Jethro's butt wiggling around as he pulled boots and winter gear out of the closet. Jethro's jeans were tight across his ass, making Tony wonder if he was wearing boxers or briefs.

"Damn it! No!"

"All right already," Tony replied, not too put out by his friend's grouchy response. He shrugged out of his suit jacket as he went into the kitchen, and draped it neatly over the back of a chair. As he pulled a couple of ice-cold beers out of the fridge, Tony raised his voice so Jethro could hear him. "Staying over in DC might be convenient but I'm glad I don't live in the city any more. All week long, I look forward to coming here. Hey, did I tell you Zack's soccer team is the best in their division? He's improved a lot; their coach is really good this year. Some of those parents push their kids too hard though. Of course half of them are FBI or ex-military, so what d'you expect?"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The past few weeks Tony had worked long hours that demanded he stay in DC on weeknights. As soon as the last meeting on Friday finished, Tony was out the door. Five minutes later, he was fighting traffic to get to his ex-wife's house in Roland Park. They'd bought that house together back in 2002, and had envisioned bringing up their children there, enjoying a good, loving relationship and a rich, rewarding life – but now that dream had gone down the drain. Still, Wendy had made a good home for their son there, and at least the terms of the divorce prevented her from pulling up stakes and heading off to San Diego and taking his son away from him.

Tony spent time with Zack every weekend, until Sunday afternoon when he'd leave and head over to Kelly Brook Farm. This weekend, however, Zack was at a camp-out with the Scouts. That meant that he and Jethro had the entire weekend together, which Tony was really looking forward to. Spending only Sunday afternoons with Jethro was far from satisfying; Tony wanted more. The good thing was that they seemed to be getting closer, if the increase in bumping of shoulders and casual touching of hands was anything to go by. Plus, Jethro had a certain way of looking at him, with an intense kind of interest that made Tony feel hot all over, just thinking about it.

Every Sunday evening, Tony would settle on his bed to watch TV. Jethro would usually poke his head in to say goodnight, and Tony would invite him to join him. Jethro would hesitate, and Tony would insist, and a few minutes later, Jethro would be sitting on top of the covers with a book in his hands, reading glasses perched on his nose. It was a big bed, easy enough for them to remain on their own side. If they'd wanted to touch each other, they could have moved a little closer, but neither man did.

When Tony eventually turned off the TV and got under the covers, Jethro would stay a little while and they'd talk. Or, Tony would talk and Jethro would insert the occasional comment. The conversation would eventually peter out, and Tony would roll onto his side and close his eyes with a sigh.

With one finger marking his place, Jethro would say, "Just to the end of the chapter."

"That's fine," would be Tony's response. "I like having you here," he'd say softly, already halfway asleep. Once his eyes were closed, Tony would feel a soft kiss on his hair. He'd smile and mumble, "Night," and Jethro would say the same to him, so quietly he was barely audible. The bedside light remaining on didn't bother Tony; in fact he liked knowing that Jethro was nearby, keeping watch over him. He would fall asleep quickly, assuming that Jethro would soon close his book and make his way downstairs to sleep in his own bed.

Tony was a deep sleeper, but one night a month earlier, he'd had to get up to take a leak. He had risen in the dark – it was around 4 a.m. – groggy with sleep, and when he'd returned from his beautiful new bathroom, he had discovered Jethro snoring softly on the other side of his bed. On top of the covers, but still, he was sleeping on Tony's bed, curled a little on his side, facing away.

At first, Tony hadn't known what to make of it. After some thought, he was pretty sure that this wasn't the first time this had occurred. He'd stood there for a while, the hundred-year-old wood floor cool under his bare feet, listening to the night sounds through the open window while watching the slight rise and fall of Jethro's chest. After a while he'd said, "Huh," to himself, and had simply covered the sleeping man with a blanket and climbed into bed beside him. Tony, although very much aware of Jethro's presence, had found it easy to fall asleep to the sound of Jethro's breathing.

The same sequence of events occurred several weekends in a row, and every Monday morning, Tony awoke to find Jethro gone and his side of the bed made. It was as if Jethro had never even been there, or perhaps he wanted to make it look that way. For a man who had said he wanted to be in a relationship, Jethro was moving as slow as sap. Either he wasn't sure about being intimate with another man – or he was playing it excruciatingly slow for Tony's sake. Admittedly, Tony had made several comments about how he felt unsure about life in general, and how he needed time to get his act together. But this vague kind of affair couldn't go on indefinitely.

Their odd sleeping arrangement was never mentioned, and Tony didn't want to be the one to bring it up. He was afraid Jethro wouldn't join him, not even to sit on top of the covers and read, if he made an issue out of it. It couldn't remain an unspoken subject forever though.

Last week, on Monday morning, Tony had woken up splayed over Jethro's body, his cheek resting on Jethro's chest. Immediately, he had jerked away, mumbled something like an apology and made his way to the bathroom, never even meeting Jethro's eyes. When Tony had emerged, the bed was empty – the covers on the other side had been straightened as neat as ever – and Jethro had gone downstairs to start the coffee. Tony had left hurriedly, not even grabbing something for breakfast. He'd used a busy workday as an excuse, but he'd been well aware of Jethro's eyes following him as he all but ran from the house.

All week long, Tony had been bothered by his own behavior. He wasn't fond of confrontations, but he was no coward. He knew he was going to have to talk to Jethro, to make sure they were on the same page. For all he knew, Jethro wasn't as comfortable about being close with another man as Tony had believed him to be. Maybe he just wanted to be friends, to be Tony's protector. After all, that's how they'd met, with Tony on the run from imminent danger and Jethro throwing himself wholeheartedly into the role of a bodyguard.

Tony was increasingly unsure of what to do. He really wanted to go to the next step with Jethro, but apart from sleeping platonically in the same bed, neither of them had made any kind of move towards the other. It was frustrating because for the first time since the kidnapping, he was feeling the stirrings of something in his heart. Tony wanted to act upon it, to get more of what he'd briefly tasted that night he'd been drunk and had all but molested Jethro, but on the other hand, these feelings he was having were for another man, and that was uncharted territory for him.

Tony didn't understand why he felt so strongly for Jethro – and he did feel deeply for him, he knew that much. He had questioned it many a time in the small hours of the night when he should have been sleeping, but he knew it was real, and not fleeting. Tony had always yearned for intimacy, and although he was pretty sure that he wasn't attracted to men in general, he knew he wanted Jethro and no other. Deep down, Tony wanted a relationship with someone who would be loyal and strong, someone who would take care of him, just as much as he wanted to love and protect his partner. His heart told him that that person was Jethro Gibbs, but should he make an overture and Jethro would reject him, Tony was afraid he would fall apart.

Even though he wanted it, the thought of intimacy was frightening. Maybe it was too soon. It had only been a few months since he'd been kidnapped. The therapist he'd been seeing had explained that being unsettled and indecisive was due to the trauma of kidnapped. "You have been through a great deal the past few months," he'd said. Tony's life had been in danger, and he had been badly injured and traumatized, not to mention the divorce and the pressure of his job.

"Have you told him yet? The entire story?" asked his therapist.

"No. I'm afraid to." It was more than that; he could barely think about what had gone on during his captivity himself. He'd found ways not to think of it, and had pushed the bad memories and thoughts aside. Tony knew that before things got too hot and heavy with Jethro, and he hoped they got to that point, he had to tell the man the truth about what had occurred when Beals had held him captive. He was still dealing with the tumultuous emotions and fears that came from being a kidnapping survivor, but if he couldn't face it, how could he move on with his life? Here he was, closing doors behind him, on his marriage and political career, yet until he faced what had happened during his abduction, there was no way he was going to be able to move forward.

Telling Jethro was going to be hard to do, but it was important that he did so. One thing he knew for sure, there was no moving forward if you were dragging a lot of baggage along with you.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

Now their long weekend together had begun, and there was no turning back.

Tony leaned against the wall and took a pull on his beer while he waited for Jethro to emerge from the closet. "You know, if you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help." An old barn boot sailed past him, followed by a pair of sneakers. Tony ducked and asked, "What is this, a rummage sale?"

Jethro emerged, holding up a pair of dress shoes like a prize. "We've got that damned charity ball thing to go to, and I need dress shoes. Why did I buy tickets to it?"

"It's a party, Jethro, not a walk to the gallows." Tony eyed Jethro's silver hair, which was sticking up in a strangely attractive way. He couldn't help but smile. "You've got an Alfalfa thing going on," he remarked, pointing at Jethro's hair.

"You're the one who said I had to go," Jethro snapped, smoothing down the errant hairs.

Tony couldn't help teasing a little. "Did I?"

Jethro's eyes widened. "You're going with me, right?" He sounded alarmed, as if he was afraid Tony was backing out.

"Of course I am. It's a really good cause and Moira expects you there to promote the mustang programs. You can press the flesh and talk about the progress you've made with all your four-footed friends, and I'll be happy to accompany you as your escort." Tony wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "When is this thing?"

"Tomorrow, and you're riding point, DiNozzo."

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. So what kind of tux did you get?"

"I don't know. A black one? I told them I had a thing to go to and they gave me one."

"Don't tell me they didn't take the time to fit you. Well, I can see I got here in the nick of time." Tony accompanied Jethro into his bedroom. He cajoled Jethro into trying on the tux, and then tutted as he walked around him, tugging at the ill-fitting jacket and cinching in the baggy trousers. "This is criminal! Whoever fitted you should be shot. This won't do. It won't do at all." Tony glanced at his watch. "Get me the phone number and I'll see if they're still open."

Jethro handed over the receipt from the rental store and Tony called them. It was a brief conversation and he made it clear, using what Jethro later called 'your Congressman DiNozzo voice,' that he wasn't at all pleased.

Tony hung up and turned to Jethro. "Get changed back into your clothes. No, not the barn clothes…something clean."

"Why?" Jethro said with a stubborn expression.

"We're going to the store where you rented this, and they're going to make it right," Tony declared.

Jethro looked at Tony as if he were out of his mind. "Do we have to? Can't you just…"

"You want me to get out the staple gun and super glue?" Tony asked sarcastically. "Let's go." He bagged the tuxedo and made for the door, but Jethro stopped him, taking hold of his arm.

"Tony…wait."

"Yeah?"

"Sorry I…uh…snapped at you," Jethro mumbled, his face heating up. "I appreciate your help."

Tony had a good look at Jethro's face, which was turning pink. He seemed contrite and that was good enough for him. "Next time, just ask for help. And," Tony said, raising a finger to prevent Jethro from talking. "And promise me you will never ever rent a tux without speaking to me first."

"Not a problem because there won't be another time," Jethro vowed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. You'll probably go to at least a couple of black-tie events a year. Maybe we should look into buying a tailored tuxedo for you. It'll save money in the long run," Tony said with a smile before sweeping out the door.

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~

The next evening, Tony accompanied Jethro to the annual fundraising ball for the Eastern Racehorse Sanctuary, which took place in a grand mansion on the Potomac. They both wore designer tuxedos, Tony wearing one from his own wardrobe, and Jethro looked fine in a dark navy After Six tuxedo that Tony picked out for him. He had paid the rental shop extra to do rush alterations, and it was worth it.

Tony enjoyed himself, even if his handsome date had to be encouraged to smile while he mingled. They both shook a lot of hands, ate some very good canapés and drank some mediocre Champagne, and danced with quite a few attractive and wealthy women. Jethro and Tony teamed up to shoot billiards for charity in the smoking room, and had a good time winning two sets of 3-cushion billiards.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Tony as they left the ball around midnight. He watched Jethro impatiently yanked at his bow tie, which had tightened into a knot. Tony stopped Jethro from getting in the truck – which he had insisted upon driving to the affair – and pulled him around to face him. "Here, let me do that for you. They loved you."

Jethro said grumpily, "They loved you, DiNozzo."

Tony's hands stilled for a second, knowing that whenever Jethro called him DiNozzo rather than Tony, something was wrong. "Well, I think you look very debonair in your tuxedo, Mr. Gibbs of Kelly Brook Farm Horse Rescue, and so did a lot of those ladies. I don't mean the ladies were wearing tuxedos. I mean they thought you looked debonair–"

"I got it, Tony," said Jethro, relaxing.

"Your rescue got lots of good publicity tonight, and you should be ecstatic that Horse & Horse Magazine is going to do a spread on you next month. The editor said he'd call you next week." With a flourish, Tony finished undoing Jethro's tie. "Voila! Now we can go home, slip into something comfortable, and snuggle up in bed." Jethro was inches away, and looking into his eyes with amusement. The night was cool but meeting Jethro's warm gaze heated Tony right up. "From the way some of those ladies were checking you out, Jethro, I'd bet it wouldn't take more than a wink to get any one of them to accompany you home and…and…"

Jethro was slowly shaking his head, never taking his eyes off Tony's.

Tony asked, "You don't want the pick of the ball? Not even that redhead with the big diamond earrings?"

"Nope."

"Okay…maybe you'd like to stop for a drink somewhere? Bourbon on the rocks? Not me though. You know my record with bourbon. Bourbon and me don't mix." Jethro was just standing there, still looking amused, though Tony was picking up a hint of exasperation. He knew he was talking too much so he told himself to shut up. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just waiting for you to stop with the yabba yabba."

"You don't like my yabba yabba, all those interesting factoids?" Tony asked with a grin. "Did you know that all bourbons are whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon? And that Lyndon B. Johnson designated bourbon as the official spirit of the U.S. by an act of Congress in 1964?"

Shaking his head, Jethro got in the truck and started the engine as soon as Tony had buckled up. "How much did you have to drink?"

Tony ignored the question. "You like wearing that tuxedo, don't you? There's nothing like a perfectly fitted suit to make you feel like you're in charge of the room – not that you need a suit to be in charge of any room, of course."

"Especially not when I'm packing a 9mm," Jethro said wryly.

Tony stared at Jethro. "You weren't really wearing a gun to the ball…were you?"

"Backup. Ankle holster."

"Gunmetal blue to match your formal wear, of course. Very James Bond," said Tony. "I just gotta say, you look mighty fine in your tuxedo, Jethro."

Jethro colored and shook his head. "You're wrong. I'm not interested in any of those fancy women."

"You sure? Not even the blond one with the perfect facelift? She's worth a few million, I hear, and she seemed to like you an awful lot."

Jethro snorted. "Nope."

"No? Who do you like then?"

Jethro rolled his eyes and stepped on the gas, pulling out of the parking lot a little too fast. "You, Tony. I like you. Okay? Now, can you shut up 'til we get home?"

~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~